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A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 


WAINWRIGHT    MERRILL 


/A  COLLEGE    MAN 
IN  KHAKI 

LETTERS  OF  AN  AMERICAN  IN  THE  BRITISH  ARTILLERY 


BY 

WAINWRIGHT  MERRILL 

DARTMOUTH,  EX-'19;  HARVABD,  '19 

EDITED  WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  BY 
CHARLES  M.  STEARNS 

REGENT     OF     HARVARD     UNIVEBSITT,    1905-10 
INBTBUCTOB  AT  DARTMOUTH  COLLEGE,  1914-18 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  >ta<r  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


\ 


Copyright,  1918, 
By  George  H.  Doran  Company 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


FEATER,  AVE  ATQUE  VALE 


PREFATORY  NOTE 

These  letters  tell  their  own  story. 

Wainwright  Merrill  was  one  of  those  young 
enthusiasts  for  the  cause  of  the  Allies  who  felt, 
long  before  the  United  States  took  her  place  in 
the  War,  that  he  at  least  must  do  his  full  share. 
In  the  spring  of  1916  as  a  freshman  at  Dart- 
mouth, his  father's  college,  he  was  an  active 
member  of  the  volunteer  training  battalion ;  in 
the  summer  of  1916  he  was  at  Plattsburg  for 
two  camps;  in  the  autumn,  having  transferred 
to  Harvard  to  enter  the  sophomore  class,  he 
was  a  member  of  the  H.O.T.C.  Then  in  No- 
vember, when  only  eighteen,  he  left  his  home 
in  Cambridge  to  volunteer,  under  the  name  of 
Arthur  A.  Stanley,  as  a  gunner  in  the  Cana- 
dian Field  Artillery.  He  took  this  step  be- 
cause he  was  a  minor,  and  knew  he  could  not 
well  get  his  father's  consent.  These  letters  give 
an  account  of  his  experiences  while  he  was  in 
training  in  England,  and  while  he  was  actually 
at  the  front  in  Flanders. 

His  letters  to  me  from  May,  1917,  until  his 
death  at  Ypres  form  a  series  complete  in  them- 
selves. I  have  added  others  to  his  father,  his 
brother,  and  his  friends,  that  show  still  fur- 
ther his  engaging  personality,  his  loyalty  to 

vii 


viii  PREFATORY  NOTE 

the  cause  he  had  made  his,  his  intense  love  of 
England  and  all  things  English,  and  his  inter- 
est in  the  details  of  his  life  of  training  and — 
later — of  actual  warfare. 

He  was  the  son  of  Samuel  Merrill  of  Cam- 
bridge, Massachusetts.  His  mother  died  when 
Wainwright  was  ten  years  old.  He  was  born 
May  26,  1898 ;  he  was  killed,  while  at  the  front, 
on  November  6,  1917. 

C.  M.  S. 
Cambridge,  Mass. 

August  26,  1918 

Note. — The  text  of  the  letters  has  been  left 
virtually  as  it  came  from  his  pen  or  pencil. 


CONTENTS 

Chapter  I:  The  Call  to  Arms  page 

Wainwright  Merrill  Becomes  "Arthur  A.  Stanley" 
In  the  England  He  Has  Dreamed  Of — Stone- 
Street — American  Troops  on  British  Soil — 
Kipling's  "A  Diversity  of  Creatures" — Folke- 
stone— The  Huns  in  the  Air — "The  Pater 
Has  Approved" — The  British  Regiments — 
Watling-Street  and  the  Pilgrims'  Way — Amer- 
ica Will  Carry  On I9 

Chapter  II:  From  Kentish  Training  Camps 

Otterpool — The  Roman  Roads — An  Old  School- 
house  Transformed — Lympne  Castle — Shorn- 
cliffe — Transferred  to  the  Heavy  Artillery — 
"Gossip  of  Mayfair  and  the  Strand" — Hythe 
— England  After  Three  Years  of  War    .         .       42 

Chapter  III :  At  Horsham  Siege  School 

From  Shorncliffe  to  Roffey  Camp  in  Sussex — Hor- 
sham Routine — A  Walk  to  Broadbridge — To 
Cuckfield  by  Bicycle— "Deah  Old  Blighty"    .       65 

Chapter  IV:  In  Kipling's  Country 

Christ's  Hospital — The  Head — A  Deputy-Grecian 
— The  "Rose  and  Crown"  at  Burwash — Bate- 
man's — In  S.  Hemsley's  Tap-room — An  Inn- 
keeper's Reminiscences  of  the  Kiplings — On 
Pook's  Hill— "Oak  and  Ash  and  Thorn"— To 
Battle  and  Hastings       .....        83 

IX 


X  CONTENTS 

PAGB 

Chapter  V:  Working  with  the  Big  Guns 
Life  at  Roffey  Camp — Bairnsfather's  Cartoons — 
On  Fatigues — Democracy  as  a  Theory — The 
British  ArUllery— The  Cavalry— The  Infan- 
try— Gun  Drill  and  Routine — "Cheero !" — 
The  "Y" 101 

Chapter  VI:  At  "Tin  Town,"  Lydd 

Doing  Sentry  Go — Camp  Ditties — Cooden  Camp 
— Pevensey — Application  for  a  Commission — 
The  Y.  M.  C.  A.— Pay— Flag  Worship— At 
the  Target  Range — Camp  Fare — An  Air  Raid 
on  Dover        .......     126 

Chapter  VII :  Through  London  to  Codford 

A  Rest-Camp  in  Wiltshire — Glimpses  of  London: 
Charing  Cross,  the  Strand,  Trafalgar  Square 
— Types  in  Camp — A  Walk  to  Stonehenge — 
America's  Part  in  the  War:  "Don't  Drivel  and 
Sentimentalise"       .         .         .         .         .         .151 

Chapter  VIII:  Oxford  in  War  Timb 

A  Morning  at  Stratford — The  Harvard  House — 
The  Shakespeare  Tercentenary  Programme  of 
the  Celebration  at  Ruhleben — An  Afternoon  at 
Oxford — Balliol's  Five  Sheets  of  Names  in 
the  Lodge  Entry:  FRATER,  AVE  ATQUE 
VALE 162 

Chapter  IX:  London  During  an  Air  Raid 

The  Eagle  Hut — Belgravia;  Rotten  Row;  Mayfair 
— Over  London  Bridge  to  Southwark — Under 
Shrapnel  in  Temple  Gardens — A  Night  of 
Experience     .         .         .         .         .         .         .170 

Chapter  X:  On  Salisburt  Plain 

In  the  "Clink" — Hopes  for  Recommendation  for  a 
Commission — Gas  Masks — Galsworthy's  "Be- 


CONTENTS  xi 

PAQB 

yond" — Reminiscences  of  Oxford — The  Host 
at  "Ye  Cheshire  Cheese" — Ingoldsby — Leav- 
ing for  France — Ye  Ballade  of  ye  Clinke       .      178 

Chapter  XI :  To  France  and  Flanders 

Folkestone  Pier — Landing  at  Boulogne — The 
Camp  on  the  Hilltop — Smoke  Gossip  of  the 
British  Army— The  Quai— At  the  Y.M.C.A. 
by  the  Priesterstraat:  An  English  Padre's 
Talk  on  America — Aeroplanes  in  Formation — 
Going  Up  to  tlie  Line    .         .         .         .         .196 

Chapter  XII :  At  the  Front 

"Pleasantly  Domiciled  in  a  Brick-walled  Passage" 
— A  Battery  Position — On  the  Mud-covered 
Highway — The  Ruins  at  Ypres — Work  of  the 
Heavy  Guns — The  Wine-cellar — The  Infantry 
on  the  Ypres  Front — English  Democracy — A 
Meeting  in  London  with  Two  College  Men — 
"Till  Later" 215 


ABBREVIATIONS 

A.S.C.  Army  Service  Corps. 

B.E.F.  British  Expeditionary  Force. 

C.B.  Confined  to  Barracks. 

C.  of  E.  Church  of  England. 

C.F.A.  Canadian  Field  Artillery. 

C.G.A.  Canadian  Garrison  Artillery. 

D.C.M.'d  District  Court  Martialled. 

D.S.O.  Distinguished  Service  Order. 

F.A.  Field  Artillery. 

F.P.  No.  2  Field  Punishment  No.  2. 

Gnr.  Gunner. 

G.O.C.  General  OflScer  Commanding. 

H.E.  High  Explosive. 

H.M.  His  Majesty. 

H.O.T.C.  Harvard  Officers'  Traming  Corps. 

L.D.  Light  Duty. 

M.O.  Medical  Officer. 

M.P.  Member  of  Parliament. 

N.C.O.  Non-Commissioned  Officer. 

O.C.  Officer  Commanding. 

O.T.C.  Officers'  Training  Corps. 

P.H.  Protective  Helmet 

P.T.  Physical  Training;    "Physical  Tor- 
ture." 

R.A.  Royal  Artillery. 

R.A.M.C.  Royal  Army  Medical  Corps. 


xir  ABBREVIATIONS 

R.E.  Royal  Engineers. 

R.F.A.  Royal  Field  ArtQlery. 

R.F.C.  Royal  Flying  Corps. 

R.G.A.  Royal  Garrison  Artillery. 

R.H.A.  Royal  Heavy  Artillery. 

R.K.  Rudyard  Kipling. 

R.N.  Royal  Navy. 

R.O.T.C.  Reserve  OjQBcers'  Training  Corpst 

R.S.A.  Royal  Siege  Artillery. 

S.M.  Sergeant-Major. 

T.M.B.  Trench  Mortar  Battery. 

U.S.R.  United  States  Reserve. 

V.A.D.  Voluntary  Aid  Detachment. 

V.C.  Victoria  Cross. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

From,  Photographs: 
Wainweight  Merrill  (1915)  ....  FrorUispiece 

PAGE 

Wainwright  Merrill  (in  uniform  of  Canadian 

Field  Artillery) 44 

Ramming  Home  a  Shell 120 

Canadian  Heavy  Artillery  in  Action     .     .  216 

Cloth  Hall,  Ypres,  after  Bombardment  .     .  220 

From  Sketches  in  the  Letters: 

The  Roffey  Milestone 68 

"ViNUM  BoNUM— M.  T.  Crassus"     ....  72 

A  Portuguese  Salute 80 

A  BuRWASH  Fire  Screen 88 

BuRWASH  AND  ViciNiTY  (map) 90 

Gun  Crew  and  Gun  (plan) 117 

A  "Gyn" 119 

Pevensey  Castle  (plan) 134 

From  Post  Cards: 

The  Quadrangle,  Christ's  Hospital     ...  85 

A  Bairnsfather  Cartoon 107 

Pevensey  Castle 133 

Barracks  at  Folkestone 196 

XT 


A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  CALL  TO  ARMS 

Wainwright  Merrill  Becomes  "Arthur  A.  Stanley" — In 
the  England  He  Has  Dreamed  Of — Stone-Street — 
American  Troops  on  British  Soil — Kipling's  "A 
Diversity  of  Creatures" — Folkestone — The  Huns  in 
the  Air — "The  Pater  Has  Approved" — The  British 
Regiments — Watling-Street  and  the  Pilgrims'  Way 
— America  Will  Carry  On 

2d  Reserve  Battery,  C.F.A. 
Risboro  Barracks 
Shornclife  Camp,  Kent 
May  20,  1917 

Dear  Mr.  Stearns: 

It  is  a  sometime  acquaintance  and,  in  some 
measure,  student  of  yours,  that  is  writing  to 
you  now,  my  dear  sir,  though  you  may  well 
have  forgotten  him.  The  mere  matter  of  a 
name  matters  little — I  have  a  poor  memory 
for  names,  but  a  good  one  for  faces — and  this 
one  may  appear  strange  to  you.  Mutati  tern- 
pores,  mutata  nomiTm! 

19 


20  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

Do  you  remember  a  rather  long,  thin  youth, 
who  attended  Dartmouth  in  1915-16  as  a  pea- 
green  Freshman;  who  meditated  the  muse  un- 
der your  friend  Mr.  Rudd  in  that  marvel  of 
the  pedagogical  art,  English  I  and  II  (was 
it  not?  for  I  almost  wrote  English  "A,"  think- 
ing of  Johnny  H!) ;  who  could  see  practi- 
cally nothing  else  in  the  late  Victorian  Age 
but  the  one  and  only  Rudyard ;  who  inhabited 
No.  3  South  Mass. ;  had  an  impediment  in  his 
speech ;  and  left  Hanover  for  a  different  school 
called  Harvard  ?  You  may  remember  this  per- 
son now.  His  name  is  Arthur  A.  Stanley, 
No.  343939,  Canadian  Field  Artillery,  on  ac- 
tive service.  For  reasons  it  is  perhaps  not 
worth  while  to  enter  upon,  he  left  Cambridge 
and  took  His  Majesty's  Service  as  a  Gunner, 
which  corresponds,  in  the  corps  whose  motto  is 
JJhique,  to  "Thomas  Atkins,  Private  of  the 
Xiine."  And,  in  passing,  there  is  nothing  too 
good  for  the  Line — ^hats  off  to  them. 

For  these  reasons  that  are  not  easy  to  write 
I  find  myself  in  this  Garden  of  Kent — in  the 
springtime,  grace  a  Dieu.  It  is  a  great  thing 
for  the  Native-Born  to  see  the  Homeland  so, 
this  England  that  he  has  always  read  of, 
dreamed  of,  and  desired  for  his  own.  That  de- 
sire is  bred  in  one  as  part  of  his  make-up — 


THE  CALL  TO  ARMS  21 

stronger  than  friends  or  blood-tie,  stronger 
than  the  man  himself — or  the  boy — c'est  taut 
egal.    You  know  these  lines — 

"We  read  of  the  English  skylark 
And  spring  in  the  English  lanes'* — • 

"They  change  their  skies  above  them 
But  not  their  hearts  that  roam; 
And  we  learned  from  our  wistful  mothers 
To  call  old  England — Home." — 

But  what  is  the  use  of  trying  to  express  it;  you 
know  it  better  than  I  can  write.*  The  giddy 
words  are  not  pat — so,  cui  bono? 

I  have  seen  a  Roman  castra  of  Augustus' 
day,  with  a  Norman  church  and  Henry  IV 
castle  above  it,  at  the  edge  of  the  South  Down 
here  near  Hythe  (which  is  called  "The  Cliff" 
to  this  day,  showing  that  once  Romney  Marsh 
was  not,  and  the  sea  came  in  to  the  run  of  the 
Downs).  The  camp  is  the  Portus  Lemanis 
of  Roman  times,  and  is  on  the  site  of  a  Cinque 
Port  of  the  Middle  Ages — all  of  which  has 
passed  on.  Beyond  the  castle  stretches  the 
green,  hedged  level  of  Romney  Marsh,  with 

*  Wainwright's  fondness  for  England  may  perhaps  be  ac- 
counted for,  in  a  measure,  by  the  fact  that  his  father's  mother 
was  born  in  England  and  brought  up  there.  She  died,  how- 
ever, before  Wainwright's  birth. 


22  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

its  crazily  winding  roads,  scattered  old  stone 
houses  and  straight  ditches,  out  to  the  sea- 
wall and  Dymchurch  and  Romney,  to  Dunge- 
ness,  Brenzett,  and  Rye — as  I  have  seen  it  in 
the  red  of  the  dusk,  with  the  hazy  Channel  be- 
yond, and  the  busy  mine-trawlers. 

From  the  Castle  runs  a  straight  ancient 
highway,  straight  over  the  eastern  Weald  and 
the  chalk  hills  to  Canterbury  and  Thomas 
Becket  —  Stone-Street,  Via  Strata,  "The 
Street" — a  flinty  white  road,  dotted  here  and 
there  with  old  farms  and  inns  (the  "George" 
at  Elmsted  has  had  a  line  of  publicans — jovial 
hosts  to  judge  by  the  present  example — since 
"sweet  Jack's"  and  Harry's  time) ;  and  I  have 
pilgrimaged  on  this  old  road — in  khaki  instead 
of  bronze  hoop-harness  or  doublet  or  linked 
chain,  to  be  sure — in  April  even  as: 

"Whan  that  Aprille  with  his  shoures  soote 
The  droghte  of  Marche  hath  perced  to 
the  roote  .  .  ." 

as  scrivening  Dan  wrote,  to  joy  of  all  mankind. 
And  I  have  walked  out  over  the  green  Marsh 
to  "Dymchurch-under-the-Wall,"  stopping  for 
ginger  wine  and  a  pint  or  two  at  the  "Botolph's 
Bridge"  and  the  "Shepherd  and  Crook"  in 
Barmarsh,  and  stood  on  the  sloping  beach 


THE  CALL  TO  ARMS  23 

where  the  Widow  Whitgift's  two  sons  em- 
barked the  Pharisees  out  of  Old  England — 
the  one  son  blind  and  the  other  dumb, — as  we 
are  told  in  "Puck."  And  so  on.  And,  to  alter 
the  old  saw  slightly,  "veni^  vidi,  victus  mim!" 
Which  is  but  natural,  I  think. 

America  has  entered,  and  been  gladly  re- 
ceived here.  The  first  troops  to  land  on  Brit- 
ish soil  were  a  Harvard  medical  unit,  and 
others  will  follow  on.  Certain  friends  of  mine 
will  come  with  them,  I  hope.    It  is  well. 

Kipling  has  written  and  published  a  new 
book  a  few  weeks  ago:  "A  Diversity  of  Crea- 
tures." They  are  reprints  from  various  maga- 
zines, along  with  new  matter  and  new  poems 
(fine  ones),  making  a  volume  of  short  stories 
with  the  old  touch  all  there.  There  are  two 
more  excellent  Stalky  stories,  one  of  the  days 
at  Westward  Ho!  and  the  other  presenting 
Lt.-Col.  "Stalky"  Cockran,  Indian  Artillery, 
carrying  on  under  the  old  principles — a  sort 
of  prelude  to  the  present  War.  All  the  others 
are  in  it:  Beetle,  McTurk,  etc.  It  resembles 
"Slaves  of  the  Lamp:  Pai-t  II,"  the  final  story 
of  "Stalky  &  Co."  There  is  a  real  war  poem 
after  it.  Old  Hobden  is  again  touched  on,  to 
his  benefit,  in  a  story,  ending  in  a  capital  long 
poem,  on  the  line  of  Hobdens,  from  Diocletian 


24  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

on.  I  would  like  to  talk  over  the  book  with 
you — there  is  too  much  in  it  to  mention. 

Dartmouth  Commencement  will  be  close, 
probably,  when  you  get  this  (if  you  do) .  I  can 
see  the  elms  about  the  campus,  and  the  red  of 
the  new  buildings,  and  the  pines  by  the  Tower 
— the  Vermont  Hills — Main  Street — taiit  pa: 
and  I  would  like  to  be  there,  for  a  season, 
again.  These  things  may  not  be,  however.  I 
would  give  much  to  stand  by  University  or 
Sever  and  look  over  at  Holworthy,  Hollis,  and 
the  square  clock  tower  of  "Mem"  over  the  way 
— but  again,  I  cannot.  I  have  my  path  to  run 
elsewhere  just  now;  but,  an  I  may,  I  shall  see 
this  dear  land  again,  and,  sometime,  return. 

My  best  wishes  and  regards  to  Mr.  Rudd 
(and  tell  him  I  iiiways  remember  his  "Tues- 
day afternoons"),  and  those  who  knew  me  in 
Hanover,  and  much  thanks  to  yourself — for 
showing  me  many  things  in  literature  that  I 
did  not  know,  and  my  debt  to  you  as  regards 
Kipling,  which  is  indeed  great.  I  think  you 
know,  too,  how 

"England  hath  taken  me." 

I  would  be  very  glad  to  hear  from  you,  and 
the  address  below  will  always  find  me,  whether 
here  or  "out  West"  in  the  "Right  of  the  Line," 


THE  CALL  TO  ARMS  25 

that  the  Royal  Artillery  is  holding.     It's  a 
good  Service. 

You  will  forgive  the  faults  in  this  letter — 
take  instead  the  spirit,  which  I  hope  is  good. 
And  believe  me,  ever  your  friend, 

Aethur  a.  Stanley,  Gnr.  No.  343939, 
2d  Reserve  Battery,  C.F.A., 
Risboro  Barracks,  Shorncliffe,  Kent, 
c/o  Army  P.O.,  London. 

P.  S. : — To  add  to  it  all,  I  expect  my  leave 
soon — and  then  for  Blighty,  which  is  London, 
— and  a  certain  part  of  Sussex.  And  if  it 
should  be  finis  in  a  few  months — I  shall  have 
seen — England.  A.  A.  S. 

For  Wainwright  the  greatest  factor  at  this 
period  shines  out  in  his  sentence,  "The  Pater — 
has  approved."  More  than  once  in  letters  to 
two  college  chums  he  lamented  the  fact  that 
he  had  to  keep  up  his  incognito.  After  the 
United  States  entered  the  war,  he  felt  the  time 
had  come  to  let  all  his  friends  know  where  he 
was.  Because  of  the  seriousness  of  the  step 
he  had  taken  and  the  inevitable  loneliness  that 
step  involved,  he  doubly  appreciated  every  sign 
of  approval  and  affection. 

Early  in  December  he  had  written  from 
Kingston,  Ontario:    "I  took  the  oath  the  18th 


26  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

[November,  1916].  ...  I  claim  to  the  'Old 
Country'  myself,  as  you  know — Hampstead, 
London,  IST.  My  age  is  21.  The  name,  and 
so  forth,  was  necessary." 

Further  on  he  wrote,  "It  is  too  bad  that  my 
friends  cannot  hear  anything  of  it,  but  it  is 
better  so,  in  any  case.  I  should  not  wish  any 
but  the  few  closest  to  know  about  it.  Some 
might  misunderstand  my  reasons — and  all  that. 
In  some  things  one  has  got  to  go  almost  alone. 

"It  surely  hurt,  coming  away  from  where 
you  are — but  I  don't  think  of  the  hurts  in  it, 
for  there  are  comforts,  too,  and  it  does  no  good 
to  brood  over  it.  It's  done,  and  I  believe  it  is 
right." 

From  what  he  wrote  a  month  later  to  the 
same  friend,  Edward  Hubbard,  we  again  get 
far  beneath  the  surface:  "Write  when  you  can, 
Ed;  I  need  cheering-up,  sometimes,  very  much. 
'Jordan  is  a  hard  road,'  and  this  is  surely  a 
hard  road,  too.    But  toujours  gai!" 

Churchyard,  SS.  Mary  and  Eansrvythe 
Folkestone,  Kent 
July  1,  1917 

Dear  Mr.  Stearns: 

I  was  so  gratified  to  see  the  postmark  "Han- 
over," and  then  to  find  that  you  were  so  kind. 


THE  CALL  TO  ARMS  27 

out  of  your  busy  seasons,  to  reply  on  the  very 
day  of  receiving  my  letter,  that  I  can  do  no 
better  than  do  likewise — which  I  assuredly 
would  have  done  anyway,  if  it  were  humanly 
possible.  (Please  forgive  at  the  start  these 
blottings-out,  and  especially  this  terrible  pa- 
per. I  can  only  say  what  the  tradesman  does 
when  he  sells  you  avant-guerre  ninepenny  mut- 
ton for  one  and  eleven:  "It's  the  war!" 
Prices,  indeed,  are  "bloody  orful,"  as  you  hear 
it  in  the  East;  but  we  have  hopes  of  Lord 
Rhondda,  the  new  Food  Controller.) 

This  is  a  very  beautiful  old  church,  with  a 
pleasant  God's-acre  surrounding  it,  the  grey 
and  ancient  stones  being  interspersed  and  lined 
with  geraniums,  bluebells,  and  garden-flowers. 
The  edifice  and  its  green  setting  you  encounter 
suddenly  as  you  walk  up  the  hill-slope,  and  feel 
the  Channel  wind  at  the  street-corners.  About 
fifty  yards  back  of  this  spot  the  cliif  promenade 
winds  round  the  Parade,  at  the  easterly  end 
of  Folkestone  Leas,  with  its  towering  blocks 
of  hotels  and  boarding  establishments.  But 
you  see  little  else  than  khaki,  in  the  male  line, 
on  the  promenade  now — and  many  of  the 
women,  of  whom  there  seems  no  end,  are  in 
V.  A.  D.  brown  and  nursing  blue.  Below  is 
the  Undercliff ,  and  you  look  off  eastward  over 


28  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

the  Pier  and  shipping  quarter  quite  to  Cap 
Gris-Nez  and  Boulogne  to-day,  as  it's  fine 
weather,  and  there  is  little  Channel  mist. 

Folkestone,  with  the  white  cliffs  and  green 
upland  at  the  north,  is  a  pretty  town.  Off 
here,  in  '78,  I  think,  the  Preiissen  rammed  the 
Grosser  Kurfiirst  in  a  German  naval  review. 
A  little  over  a  month  ago — but  you  haven't 
heard  it  all  yet.  The  Prussian  government 
sent  special  thanks  to  the  fishing  people  and 
citizens  of  Folkestone  who  aided  the  survivors 
to  safety.  The  German  sailors  were  as  well 
treated  by  the  citizens  as  their  own  brothers 
would  have  been.  At  the  end  of  last  April,  at 
the  orders  of  Der  Allerhochster,  the  Huns 
came — in  the  air — twenty  of  them,  and  left 
ruin  and  death.  I  saw  things  that  night  that 
it  is  not  good  for  any  man  to  see — torn  women 
with  child,  and  mangled  children  crying,  cry- 
ing— and  I  drilled  the  next  day  beside  a  chap 
whose  tunic  and  breeches  were  all  bedrabbled 
and  stiff  from  their  blood.  He  had  been  help- 
ing in  the  wreckage.  And  British  men — some 
of  them — still  talk  of  an  early  peace,  and  de- 
cry reprisals.  God,  in  view  of  the  beastliness 
of  savages !  There  were  no  military  objectives 
in  Folkestone.  I  rather  hope  the  censor  passes 
this. 


THE  CALL  TO  ARMS  29 

Great  news  has  come  over  from  "your 
United  States"  for  me  in  the  past  week.  I  have 
heard — grace  a  Dieu — from  you,  from  two  col- 
lege chaps  de  mes  amis  at  Cambridge,  word  of 
my  brother,  and  from — the  Pater.  My  Har- 
vard chums  inform  me  that  they  are  in  the 
Naval  Reserve  and  Hospital  Naval  something- 
or-other,  that  a  third  is  in  the  Harvard  O.T.C., 
that  nearly  all  my  acquaintances  and  friends 
there  have  joined.  My  brother,  I  learn,  is 
cadetting  at  Plattsburg — Cavalry,  I  fancy,  for 
he  was  in  the  Massachusetts  Militia.  Another, 
from  Dartmouth — P.  L.  Gould,  '17,  of  South 
Mass.  (transferred  from  a  Maine  college)  — 
writes  from  Plattsburg  also,  where  he  is  foot- 
slogging,  and  he  was  able  to  tell  me  much  of 
the  individual  men  at  Hanover,  and  what  they 
were,  and  were  not,  doing.  He  gets  his  de- 
gree. 

The  Pater — has  approved.  For  various  rea- 
sons I  am  very,  very  glad:  because,  when  I 
entered  this  thing,  I  took  counsel  with,  and 
shook  hands  with,  but  one  at  leaving — the 
H.O.T.C.  chap.  Now  I  find  that  I  have  many 
other  good  friends,  more  than  I  ever  thought. 
And — I'm  glad  indeed.  For  our  friends  are 
the  best  and  only  worth-while  thing  in  this 


30  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

giddy  old  show  called  Life — are  they  not,  my 
friend  ? 

Dartmouth  is  certainly  doing  her  bit,  and  it 
is  a  real  bit,  beyond  doubt.  Are  the  present 
volunteers  merely  training  for  proceeding 
overseas  as  a  unit,  or  is  the  plan  one  for  teach- 
ing them  the  subalterns'  side  of  it,  for  gazet- 
ting to  later  Regular  regiments?  "Regiment" 
is  hard  to  say  now,  for  the  regiment  is  being 
lost  sight  of  in  the  British  Army — the  whole 
thing  is  the  battalion.  Present  Imperial  (the 
word  used  for  the  Regular  Army  here)  regi- 
ments on  peace  basis  have  two  battalions  each, 
formed  from  the  old  Line  regiments,  the  1st 
to  110th  Foot.  The  Regiment  is  named  by 
some  shire  appellation,  and  the  two  old  bat- 
talions have  become  the  same  in  tradition — 
though  they  may  have  had  entirely  different 
records :  thus  the  Argyll  and  Sutherland  High- 
landers are  the  old  91st  and  93d  Foot — ^but 
since  the  war  the  reserve  battalions  of  militia 
have  gone  in  under  the  old  name,  and  ten  or 
so  "Service"  battalions  of  Kitchener's  Army 
formed.  That  is  the  present  cadre-system  in 
the  British  forces.  The  battalion  numbers 
about  1100  men,  I  believe,  in  companies  of  ap- 
proximately 200  each — four  platoons  of  50 
each,  led  by  four  one-star  "subs."    The  Cana- 


THE  CALL  TO  ARMS  31 

dian  Infantry,  I  believe,  under  Currie's  lead 
(the  new  army  corps  commander  in  France), 
have  developed  especially  the  platoon  as  a 
self-contained  and  self-sufficient  unit  for  the 
trenches. 

But  what  am  I  writing  this  for,  when  it  is 
quite  out  of  my  line,  and  when  you  have  had 
Captain  Keene  to  elucidate  to  you?  The  Brit- 
ish "Inf antree"  is  doing  wonderful  work  in  this 
business,  and  you  Yankees  (?)  will  have  to 
learn  from  it,  I  am  convinced.  They  are  doing 
the  job,  and  doing  it  well.  Every  one  in  the 
Army,  from  the  Brigadier  G.O.C.  to  the  gun- 
ner of  the  "Ubique"  corps,  takes  off  his  hat 
to  the  Infantry — "Thomas  Atkins,  Private  of 
the  Line,"  to  whom  R.  K.,  in  his  wisdom,  dedi- 
cated his  soldier-poems. 

The  Army  shares  your  captain's  ideas  on  the 
A.S.C.— "Safety  First,"  and  "Ally  Sloper's 
Cavalry,"  they  are  called;  and  to  top  it  off, 
their  blessed  swank  exceeds  that  of  the  Bom- 
bardier of  R.F.A.,  which  is  "going  some!"  For 
the  R.F.C.  (Royal  Flying  Corps),  in  spite  of 
what  you  may  hear,  does  not  swank  more  than 
the  R.F.A.  (By  the  way,  I  thought  of  trans- 
fer, and  a  one-star  affair,  in  the  R.F.C,  but 
on  later  thoughts  my  nerves  were  called  in 
doubt.)     But,  you  see,  the  Royal  Artillery  is 


32  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

the  "Right  of  the  Line,"  and  they  have  a  bit 
of  a  record.  We  are  not  Imperial,  but  our 
record  is  goodish  in  Flanders,  and  we  wear  the 
R.A.  crest,  the  proudest  crest  in  the  British 
Army,  barring,  perhaps,  only  the  Coldstreams' 
and  Grenadiers*.  You  may  remember 
"Ubique"  in  R.  K/s  South  African  songs? 
Well — really,  it's  pretty  nearly  true! 

I  shall  never  forget  your  readings,  nor  do 
I  think  will  most  of  the  rest  who  have  heard 
you:  for  having  once  heard,  they  would  be 
guilty  of  the  grossest  neglect  of  opportunity 
well  possible,  if  they  came  not  again  and  again, 
ad  infimt.  If  you  have  the  chance,  at  Cam- 
bridge this  summer,  I'd  like  ever-so-much  for 
you  to  look  up  Sydney  C.  Stanley  of  the 
H.O.T.C.,  if  you  can  find  him.  I  have  spoken 
of  him  before.  He  visited  Hanover  once  when 
I  was  there,  and  liked  it  greatly,  but  he  is  for 
H.,  beyond  recall.  Either  choice  would  be 
"top  hole,"  as  our  deah  little  flappers  (bless 
their  little  hearts!)  express  it.  For,  though  I 
have  taken  H.  as  my  alma  mater,  I  still  re- 
member very  warmly  the  year  when  I  was  in 
Hanover,  and  always  will.  "There  we  met 
with  famous  men" — and,  of  course,  we  did  also 
in  Cambridge.  Delightful  old  Barrett  Wen- 
dell has  gone,  which  is  a  tremendous  pity.  But 


THE  CALL  TO  ARMS  33 

Dean  Briggs  stays,  and  gruff  old  Kittredge 
— a  master,  that — the  ironical  butt  of  the  play- 
ful undergrad ! — I  can  see  his  fierce  grey  beard 
and  grey  eye,  and  the  green  bag,  and  the  cane 
tapping  the  platform :  all  that  for  a  scant  two 
months  I  knew,  but  that  is  stamped  indelibly 
in  me.  God  grant  that  I  see  it  again  some 
day — "apres  la  guerre  finier  Greet  all  of 
Cambridge  for  me.  You  know  the  Botanical 
Gardens,  and  the  hill  with  the  trees,  north  of 
Linnsean  Street?    That  is  my  home. 

I  always  liked  a  horse.  I  rode  for  four 
months  in  Canada,  and  delighted  therein.  But 
now  our  battery  of  Reserve  Artillery  here  has 
been  made  Siege  Guns:  4.5's  and  60-pounders 
— "Heavies"  only,  6-inch,  8-inch  and  9.2's.  I 
am  on  the  8-inch:  6th  Siege  Battery,  C.G.A. 
So,  since  we  are  drawn  by  tractors,  we  do  not 
ride ;  and  j'ai  me  mis  les  eperons.  If  I  stayed 
in  the  C.F.A.  it  would  be  a  bit  of  a  disgrace 
to  remove  my  spurs;  for  the  Field  Artillery- 
man is  only  obliged  to  remove  them  when,  a 
prisoner,  he  is  "up  for  Office"  before  the  O.C. 
We  shall  probably  move  to  Horsham,  north 
Sussex,  for  training:  Ave!  the  Sussex  Weald 
— only  twenty  miles  to  Brightling  (Book's 
Hill!)   and  Burwash  of  R.  K.;  over  the  hill 


34>  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

Battle,  Hastings,  and  Pevensey.  Nothing 
more  need  be  said,  I  think. 

I  walked,  one  day,  up  the  cliffs  at  Caesar's 
Camp  (do  you  remember  "aquillam  infer imus 
hostibus" — the  centurion  landing,  the  camp 
made — from  Book  IV,  I  think,  of  ''De  Bello 
Gallico?"  it  was  here — this  the  camp),  and 
"swinging"  to  the  north  on  Swingfield  Minnis, 
{minnis,  Kentish,  "moor  road,"  I  think), 
through  Hawkinge  ("The  White  Hart"  had 
excellent  ginger  wine)  and  Denton.  Here  I 
had  a  lift  in  an  R.A.M.C.  'bus  for  four  miles 
— "Chequers"  Inn — to  Broame  Park,  Earl  K. 
of  K.'s  estate,  and — Watling- Street!  There 
it  lay,  broad  and  straight,  green-hedged  and 
windy,  north  and  south  along  Barham  Downs. 

Well,  north  it  was  for  me  (Roman  tumidi 
here)  on  the  King's  Highway  to  Bridge  Vil- 
lage. Here  I  stopped  at  the  "Red  Fox"  for 
a  bite — and  excellent  Kentish  ale,  though  Gov- 
ernment control  has  done  its  best  to  "teeto- 
talise"  it — and  so  into  Canterbury  at  six  of  the 
evening,  by  the  Ridingate,  where  met  Stone- 
Street  from  Lympne,  Watling- Street  from 
Portus  Dubris  (Dover),  and  the  Pilgrims' 
Road  to  Rutubiffi  (Sandwich).  Then  right 
turn  along  the  Cattle  Market  (David  re- 
marked how  Betsey  Trotwood  on  market  day 


THE  CALL  TO  ARMS  35 

wound  in  and  out  among  the  vehicles  so  well) 
into  High  Street.  North  again,  past  the  newer 
shops  and  inns  to  St.  Margaret  Street,  Mer- 
cery Lane  (the  "Chequers"  Inn,  of  Chaucer) 
with  the  view  of  Christ-Church  Gate  and  the 
Cathedral  towers,  grey  and  massive,  above  it, 
with  the  rooks  wheeling  in  the  yellow  sunlight. 
But  I  had  other  ends,  and  carried  on.  There 
were  the  Crutched  Friars,  the  Benedictine 
Hostel,  Guildhall,  the  Stour,  and  the  weavers' 
houses;  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Cross  and 
Westgate  towers  square  in  the  road;  under  the 
arch  and  past  the  "Falstaff"  Inn,  to  the  left 
turning  the  London  Road. 

I  was  a  bit  tired  now,  but  ahead  was  the 
thing  I  sought.  To  the  left  there  turns  off  a 
lane,  going  straight  west,  while  Watling- Street 
bends  north.  A  half-mile  down  this  lane  it 
narrows  to  a  six-foot  track,  for  the  sides  are 
grass-grown  and  the  hedges  encroach  on  the 
right-of-way:  this  is  the  Pilgrims'  Way,  that 
runs  along  the  Downs  by  Guildford  and 
Reigate  to  Winchester;  thence  it  ran  on  over 
Salisbury  Plain  to  St.  Michael's  Mount,  Pen- 
zance. 

This  old  road  always  fascinated  me,  some- 
how. Books  and  books  have  been  written  of 
it — and  I  actually  trod  it  myself,  which  I  never 


86  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

had  thought  to  do.  There  was  a  fine  evening 
view  into  the  Stour  Valley.  Back  I  came 
through  Westgate,  even  as  Dan  Scrivener's 
Pilgrims  of  the  better  days,  and  King  Henry 
walking  barefoot  to  Becket's  shrine. 

Another  time  I  bicycled  west  through 
Hythe,  and  out  on  to  Romney  Marsh,  through 
Dymchurch,  New  Romney,  and  Old  Romney, 
by  the  Channel  road  under  the  sea-wall.  The 
sleepy  old  Marsh  was  never  more  beautiful. 
You  go  to  Brenzett  from  Old  Romney: 

"Oh  Romney  level  and  Brenzett  reeds, 
I  reckon  you  know  what  my  mind  needs !" 

Farmers  pass  you  on  the  road — a  fine  mac- 
adam road  it  is — and  you  meet  them  in  the 
pubs.  They  picture  Hobden  and  his  ilk  for 
you.  And  the  ale  is  nectar  to  a  dusty  throat. 
Thence  I  carried  on  westerly  through  Brook- 
lands  hamlet,  with  the  old  church  tower,  black 
with  age,  standing  beside  the  Norman  and 
Early  English  church.  When  marriages  and 
inhabitants  were  once  become  rare  in  the 
Marsh,  it  is  said  to  have  jumped  down  in  sur- 
prise at  the  coming  of  a  man  and  a  maid  (a 
"Whitgift  woman?")  to  be  wed.  And  so  on, 
through  the  fields  and  sheep  pasture,  over  the 
dikes  and  sluices  to  Kent  Ditch,  and  Sussex. 


THE  CALL  TO  ARMS  37 

Into  Rother  Levels  I  rode,  with  "the  gates  of 
Rye"  full  in  sight. 

*'See  you  the  windy  levels  spread 
About  the  gates  of  Rye? 
O  that  was  where  the  Northmen  fled 
When  Alfred's  ships  came  by." 

I  may  not  have  it  just  aright.  I  entered  by 
the  north  side,  under  the  Landgate,  and  went 
up  to  High  Street,  to  the  right  along  it 
("Flushing"  Inn),  and  to  St.  Mary's,  Rye 
Church,  a  beautiful  grey  pile,  of  nearly  every 
style  of  architecture,  its  crowning  beauty  the 
bell  tower  and  gilded  cherubs  that  point  the 
time.  Around  it  to  the  left  leads  you  to  Ypres 
Tower  and  the  Gungarden  of  Queen  Bess. 
The  view  from  there  is  superb:  Folkestone, 
Dover,  Hythe,  and  the  Marsh  to  the  left; 
Rother  Levels,  the  Strand,  Rye  Harbour  be- 
low; the  squat  firm  guardian  castle  across  the 
Marsh,  and  the  Channel  beyond;  while  at  the 
right  you  see  Winchelsea  and  down  the  east- 
ern part  of  the  bare  South  Downs.    Sussex  1 

"In  a  fair  ground — in  a  fair  ground — 
Yea,  Sussex  by  the  Sea !" 

Cheero!  Forgive  the  hopeless  jumble  of  this 
letter,  and  let  me  hear  of  your  Cambridge  stay, 


88  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

your  plans,  and  yourself!    If  you  will  be  so 
kind! 

Yours,  as  ever, 

Akthue  a.  Stanley. 

The  stiff  formality  of  the  following  letter 
should  be  noted.  In  all  his  correspondence 
with  his  father  Wainwright  evidently  consid- 
ered whether  or  not  one  of  his  own  officers  was 
to  see  what  he  wrote.  With  them  he  was,  of 
course,  "A.  A.  Stanley,"  and  he  consistently 
played  his  part.  Once  in,  he  thought  it  pru- 
dent to  preserve  his  secret  scrupulously. 

C.  of  E.  Soldiers'  Club 
Folkestone,  Kent 
June  29,  1917 

Dear  Sm: 

I  was  very  glad  to  hear  from  you,  for  your 
letter  arrived  this  morning,  in  a  transit  of 
eighteen  days,  which  is  very  good  time,  at 
present  conditions.  I  am  glad  that  you  heard 
from  me,  for  with  the  submarine  sinkings  de 
ce  temps  the  whole  business  is  quite  uncertain. 

I  hardly  know  where  to  begin,  really.  I 
knew  that  Gyles  would  be  in  something  by  this 
time,  and  it  is  fine  that  he  has  the  chance  for  a 
commission.  He  must  be  going  through  much 
the  same  routine  that  I  experienced  at  Platts- 


THE  CALL  TO  ARMS  39 

burg.  I  surely  hope  that  he  will  gain  his  stars 
(as  I  say  involuntarily,  for  the  British  subal- 
tern wears  first  one  star,  and  on  promotion 
to  full  Lieutenant  two — ^but  in  the  States' 
army  one  white  bar  is  worn  on  the  shoulder) . 
The  star  is  like  this  [sketch],  in  gilt  metal.  It 
reads,  "Tria  Juncta  In  Uno"  with  three  minia- 
ture crowns  in  the  centre.  Is  he  out  for  any 
particular  branch — Cavalry,  Artillery,  or  the 
plain  reliable  Infantry?  I  am  writing  to  him, 
and  please  remember  me  to  him.  .  .  . 

America  has  come  into  it  strongly  enough, 
it  appears  from  this  side  the  water,  even  if 
she  did  start  rather  late.  I  have  heard  of  a 
number  of  my  friends  among  the  fellows — 
college  chaps  at  Hanover  and  Harvard — and 
they  have  gone  in  almost  to  a  man.  Indeed, 
every  one  that  I  knew  at  all  well  has  joined. 
Edward  Hubbard  is  in  the  Hospital  Naval 
Reserve,  Sydney  Stanley  a  cadet  at  the  Har- 
vard O.T.C.,  which  I  attended  last  fall  on  the 
original  basis ;  Francis  Foxcrof  t  is  in  the  Naval 
Reserve,  a  "Jackie";  Lauriat  Lane  and  his 
room-mate  are  driving  ambulances  in  France, 
I  have  heard.  Thirty  or  forty  Dartmouth  un- 
dergraduates are  at  Plattsburg,  Gould  writes 
me  ('17,  A.B. — he  was  planning  a  journal- 
istic beginning). 


40  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

America  has  begun  well,  and  will  carry  on 
in  the  same  way,  I  think.  I  wish  for  certain 
reasons  that  I  had  known  that  she  would  finally 
take  the  side  she  has.  It  could  have  changed 
matters  much.  But  I  could  not  know  it,  and 
I  believe  you  understand  how  I  felt — that  I 
could  not,  in  honour,  stay  out  if  America 
should  take  no  action.  It  would  have  been  a 
fine  thing  if  I  could  have  stayed  and  gone  now 
with  the  rest,  and  Gyles — but  there  is  little  use 
speaking  of  it  now.  I  wish  only  that  I  may 
carry  on  to  take  a  man's  part  in  this  thing.  II 
n'y  a  pas  rien  de  plus  a  dire. 

This  Kent  is  a  wonderful  part  of  this  won- 
derful little  island,  and  well  it  is  called  the 
"Garden  of  England." 

There  was  a  wonderful  spring  this  year. 
Fair  warm  weather  came  about  the  first  of 
May — late,  it  is  true — but  there  has  been  not 
the  slightest  break  up  to  a  few  showers  this 
week.  I  have  journeyed  about  quite  a  little. 
I  saw  much  of  the  hill  and  marsh  country 
while  at  Otterpool  Camp.  .  .  . 

I  like  England  very,  very  much.  I  could 
easily  love  it  as  a  home,  and  it  is  surely  greatly 
worth  fighting  for. 

I  have  transferred  to  the  Siege  Artillery, 
8-inch  howitzers,  and  we  expect  to  leave  Shorn- 


THE  CALL  TO  ARMS  41 

clijffe  for  another  training  base — likely  Hor- 
sham, in  northern  Sussex.  .  .  .  We  shaU  be 
two  months  more  in  England  to  train,  at  least. 
...  I  am  well  and  healthy,  and  drawing  about 
150  pounds  about  now.  I've  gained  quite  a 
bit. 

lYours  sincerely, 

Arthur  A.  Stanley. 


CHAPTER  II 

FROM  KENTISH  TRAINING  CAMPS 

Otterpool — The  Roman  Roads — An  Old  Schoolhouse 
Transformed  —  Lympne  Castle  —  Shorncliffe — 
Transferred  to  the  Heavy  Artillery — "Gossip  of 
Mayfair  and  the  Strand" — Hythe — England  After 
Three  Years  of  War 

From  here  on  the  letters  are  arranged  in 
chronological  order.  A  glance  at  his  itinerary 
as  sent  by  Wainwright  in  a  letter  written  later 
to  a  friend  may  be  of  assistance: 

7  April:  Docking  at  Liverpool — journey 
by  night  to  Otterpool  Camp,  Lympne,  near 
Hythe,  Kent. 

7  Apr. — 12  May:  Five  weary  weeks  of  con- 
finement at  Otterpool — foot  drill,  physical 
training  et  al.  Various  forbidden  sallies  into 
Kent  at  night  and  afternoons. 

12  May:  March  to  Risboro  Barracks,  Shom- 
chfFe. 

12  May^U  July:  Drill  at  Shorncliffe — 
foot  drill,  physical,  route  marches;  course  in 

42 


FROM  KENTISH  TRAINING  CAMPS        43 

musketry,  gas,  and  60-pounder  gunnery;  jour- 
neys to  Dover  (almost) ,  Hythe,  Romney,  Rye, 
Ashford,  Watling- Street,  and  Canterbury. 
Transfer  from  Field  Artillery  to  Siege  Ar- 
tillery. 

Of  the  small  photograph  of  himself  in  uni- 
form Wainwright  wrote  on  January  21  to  Ed- 
ward Hubbard:  "The  cap  in  the  photo  is  the 
active  service  trench-cap  now  worn  by  all  the 
British  forces  in  France,  and  looks  exactly  as 
it  does  in  the  picture.  The  picture  surtout  is 
fair,  I  think,  but  no  more.  The  shoulder-belt 
is  a  bandolier,  and  I  am  carrying  the  dress- 
whip  vvhich  every  artilleryman  must  wear  out 
of  barracks." 

[Otterpool  Camp,  near  Hythe'l 
April  16,  1917 

Dear  Ed: 

.  .  .  We  arrived  in  Liverpool  April  7,  all 
well  and  happy.  .  .  .  The  trip  from  Halifax 
was  rough,  rather,  and  the  quarters  none  too 
salubrious ;  quite  the  other  way,  in  fact,  but  one 
cannot  be  particular  on  a  trooper.  I  was  as- 
signed to  help  in  the  Sergeants'  Mess,  and 
thereby  lived  high  in  the  gustatory  line  for 
more  than  half  the  trip.  After  we  landed  at 
the  pier  opposite  Birkenhead  Beach  we  went 


'4i4i  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

on  board  a  train  of  third-class  carriages,  seven 
to  a  compartment,  which  was  not  at  all 
bad.  .  .  . 

The  camp  is  for  quarantine  of  uncertain 
duration — perhaps  only  till  the  20th,  perhaps 
three  weeks  more.  There  are  measles  and 
mumps  about.  We  are  kept  (supposedly)  in 
close  bounds  of  our  five-acre  field,  but  frequent 
eruptions  are  made,  and  excellent  times  spent 
in  various  places.  Kent  is  a  wonderfully  beau- 
tiful country,  and  is  as  pleasant  a  place  in 
every  way  as  any  spot  on  this  little  globe.  It 
is  called  the  "Garden  of  England,"  and  must 
certainly  be  that.  Everywhere  you  find  the 
old  brick  and  stone  houses  and  long  hedge- 
rows. One  has  to  see  it  to  know  it.  Parts  of 
Massachusetts — Ipswich,  Amesbury,  New- 
buryport — resemble  Kent  quite  strongly.  .  .  . 

We  shall  move  on  to  Shorncliffe,  near 
Folkestone — the  artillery  camp — within  a 
week  or  two,  probably,  to  train  for  the  real 
thing.  .  .  . 

Yours,  as  ever, 

Aet. 


WAINWRICIIT    MERRILL 

Jn   Uniform   of  Canadian   Field   Artillery 


FROM  KENTISH  TRAINING  CAMPS        45 

Sd  Reserve  Battery,  C.F.A. 
Otterpool  Camp,  Area  No.  3 
Lympne,  near  Hythe,  Kent 
April  20,  1917 

Dear  Syd: 

We  have  had  a  couple  of  days  of  fine 
weather  (Just  ducked  my  head  as  an  R.F.C. 
plane  skimmed  about  ten  yards  over  the  tent. 
We're  getting  used  to  them  now.  Yesterday 
one,  in  alighting,  missed  me  by  about  twenty 
feet.)  No  one  ever  saw  a  spring  like  this — 
not  in  thirty  years.  The  Mail  is  full  of  it  every 
morning:  sad  wails  for  le  vieux  temps.  They 
blame  the  firing  in  France,  the  supposed 
change  of  course  of  the  Gulf  Stream,  which 
aforetime  flowed  round  this  little  island — and 
everything  else  is  blamed. 

Here  in  the  Old  Land,  when  anything 
doesn't  suit  anybody,  he  writes  to  the  papers 
about  it.  The  Daily  Mail  is  one  of  the  best 
penny  papers,  and  on  the  editorial  page,  and 
facing  it,  are  found  daily  columns  of  com- 
plaints about  various  matters,  from  Eggs  to 
Elephants,  including  Bread  Waste,  Potatoes, 
Weather,  Returned  Soldiers'  Special  Park 
Benches,  the  Latest  German  Atrocity,  War 
Loan,  Lax  Conscription  Tribunals,  et  al.  It 
is  a  harmless  diversion,  in  the  main,  and  eases 
the  mind.    The  Herald  (Boston)  has  evidences 


46  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

of  a  like  nature,  but  less  degree.  .  .  .  Here 
they  often  do  real  good.  The  press  has  much 
more  influence  here,  and  when  an  INI.P.,  for 
example,  is  criticised  in  the  Mail  or  the  Times 
or  the  Express  J  he  feels  bound  to  answer  it  by 
a  return  letter.  One  thrust  provokes  another, 
and  so  on  ad  infimt.  .  .  . 

Our  food  continues  good  in  qualitj^,  but  de- 
plorably meagre  in  quantity.  One  slice  of 
bread  with  margarine,  one  small  potato,  two 
spoonfuls  of  meat  stew,  and  half  a  cup  of  tea 
constitute  a  meal.  But  this  is  only  temporary 
— while  we  are  under  training  here  at  "Mud" 
pool.  At  ShorncliiFe  we  shall  dine  as  do  the 
Imperials — a  pint  of  excellent  tea,  a  quarter 
of  a  loaf  of  bread,  abundant  jam,  margarine, 
etc.  But  in  the  food  line  comes  woe.  You 
know  me  as  something  of  a — er — food-con- 
sumer. .  .  .  The  joy  of  every  Briton,  his  aft- 
ernoon tea,  is  to  be  curtailed  I  Forbidden  are 
all  tea  cakes,  muffins,  crumpets,  f^ncy  cakes, 
et  al. 

I  have  held  for  several  days  a  beauteous  job. 
It  is,  namely,  that  of  camp  paper-picker,  on 
the  Sanitary  Fatigue.  I  go  on  no  more  vulgar 
parades.  At  nine  I  amble  around  for  perhaps 
an  hour,  securing  pieces  of  paper.  I  then  re- 
tire to  my  book,  my  pen,  or  my  journal.    At 


FROM  KENTISH  TRAINING  CAMPS        47 

two  in  the  afternoon  I  perform  likewise — for 
half-an-hour.  Then,  at  about  three  o'clock,  I 
retire  for  the  day — to  follow  the  aforemen- 
tioned pursuits,  or  to  seek  some  lordly  adven- 
ture on  the  Kentish  highway — the  "Broad 
Highway"  indeed.  The  identical  "Broad 
Highway"  of  Farnol  runs  past  the  foot  of  our 
lane.  It  is  the  London  Road  to  the  left,  and 
the  Folkestone  and  Dover  Road  to  the  right. 
We  believe  we  shall  not  be  here  long.  But 
all  such  things  are  verily  in  the  hands  of  the 
Powers  that  Be.  Let  it  rest  with  them.  I  am 
content  to  remain  here  in  Arcady-with-some- 
Restrictions.  It's  wonderful,  that's  all.  And 
a  day  like  this  makes  you  really  feel  Brown- 
ing's— 

*'0h,  to  be  in  England 
Now  that  April's  there!" 

This  afternoon,  if  all  goes  well,  for  the  Can- 
terbury Road.  It  leads  straight  over  the  hills, 
and  ever  on,  with  old  inns  and  houses  by  the 
way,  that  one  time  cheered  the  pilgrim  to 
Thomas,  saintly  Thomas,  in  Christ-Church  by 
the  North  Gate,  for  whom  Dan,  "the  little 
scrivener,"  held  forth: 


i8  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

Whan  that  Aprille  with  his  schoures  soote 
The  drought  of  March  hath  perced  to  the  roote 
And  Zephirus  eek,  with  his  sweete  breethe 
Inspired  hath  in  every  holte  and  heethe 
The  tendre  croppes,  and  the  yonge  sonne 
Hath  in  the  Ram  his  half e  cours  y-ronne ; 
Than  priketh  hem  Nature  in  hir  corages 
Than  longen  folk  to  goon  on  pilgrimages 
And  palmeres  for  to  seken  straunge  strondes, 
And  specially  from  every  shires  ende 
Of  Engelond  to  Caunterbury  they  wende 
The  holy  blisful  martir  for  to  seke 
That  hem  hath  holpen  when  that  they  were  seeke. 

Wonderful  lines,  too,  youthling.     Chaucer 
knew  it  and  felt  it.    God,  but  it's  a  thing  be- 
yond price — "Spring  in  the  Kentish  lanes!" 
Until  later. 

As  ever, 

Art,  No.  343939. 

73d  Battery  Draft,  C.F.A. 
Otterpool  Camp,  Lympne,  near 
Hythe,  Kent 

April  21,  1917 

Deae  Ed: 

This  is  Saturday,  and  here  we  have  a  half- 
holiday,  as  usual.  The  past  few  days  have 
been  quite  warm,  and  joy  pervades  in  conse- 
quence.   I  intend  walking  out  this  afternoon. 


FROM  KENTISH  TRAINING  CAMPS        49 

The  birds  are  carolling  away  as  they  only  do 
in  Kent,  I  think.    And  I  am  for  a  walk. 

Later.  A  walk  it  was.  Out  from  camp 
here  on  the  South  Downs,  down  into  Sellindge, 
with  its  Richard  II  church,  and  to  the  shop  for 
tea  and  sweets.  Then  on  by  the  London  Road 
(Sixty-two  miles  to  London  Town!)  and  turn- 
ing right  and  north,  past  the  "Swan"  inn  and 
the  Forge,  down  Swan  Lane  a  couple  of  miles 
to  the  high  row  of  hills  opposite.  Up  the  side, 
past  the  chalk  pits  and  Sellindge  manor-house, 
you  turn  into  Stone-Street.  Straight  it  runs, 
dipping  over  the  hills  of  the  wooded  Weald 
of  Kent,  curving  slightly  here  and  there,  but 
always  returning  to  the  course. 

I  walked  this  mile  or  two  with  a  native 
Kentishman,  and  we  talked  of  the  weather, 
the  war,  and  the  old  Street.  He  turned  event- 
ually into  his  cottage,  and  I  carried  on. 

On  either  side  of  the  road  lie  ridges,  hedged 
over,  and  beyond  them  other  level  spaces  that 
are  now  grass-grown,  but  show  that  the  road 
was  broader  once.  A  flint  road  it  is,  curving 
slightly  on  the  top,  hard  and  ringing  to  the 
feet,  and  showing  no  sign  of  mud  after  rain. 
Hedges  and  stiles  line  it  continuously ;  a  ruined 
house  here  and  there ;  the  remains,  perhaps,  of 
a  castra — they  are  all  over  England. 


50  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

I  reached  the  hamlet  of  Ehnsted,  seven 
miles  from  the  London  Road,  about  a  quarter 
before  six,  and  stopped  at  the  "George,"  an 
ancient  stone  hostelry  with  a  shining  tap-room 
and  polished  inn-parlour.  I  had  supper  up, 
and  was  glad  enough  to  eat  it  in  the  stone- 
flagged  inn  kitchen  with  the  publican,  a  beefy- 
faced  old  codger  in  green  velveteens,  and  his 
wife.  Eggs  and  bread-and-butter  and  tea, 
with  jam  and  cake,  was  the  fare,  since  mine 
host  would  have  no  meat  in  till  the  next  day 
(war-time!),  and  finishing  off  with  half-a-pint 
of  their  excellent  ale  I  paid  my  score — two 
shillings — and  turned  south  on  to  the  highway 
again.    I  was  in  camp  by  eight-thirty. 

There  is  a  fascination  about  a  Roman  road 
that  is  lacking  in  other  roads :  it  runs  straight 
and  undeviatingly  over  the  hills,  on  and  on  till 
its  goal  is  reached.  There  are  many  of  them 
in  England.  Cassar,  I  suppose,  began  it,  and 
when  Britannia  became  a  province  they  were 
an  imperative  need.  Watling- Street,  running 
from  Dover  through  Canterbury  and  London 
northwest  to  the  west  coast  by  Shropshire,  is 
perhaps  the  best  known.  From  London  to 
Canterbury  it  is  immortalised  as  the  route  of 
Chaucer's  Canterbury  pilgrims.  It  is  the 
"Dover  Road"  of  "Two  Cities,"  all  the  Vic- 


FROM  KENTISH  TRAINING  CAMPS         51 

torian  novelists,  and  of  twentieth-century  act- 
uality too,  for  the  modern  Dover  highway  fol- 
lows Watling- Street  for  nearly  the  entire  dis- 
tance. 

The  "Great  North  Road"  runs  from  Lon- 
don into  York,  and  beyond  to  Hadrian's  Wall 
and  Scotland.  It  was  up  this  that  Turpin  rode 
two  hundred  miles  in  ten  hours,  after  a  rob- 
bery in  Kent,  thereby  proving  an  "alibi"  to 
the  court,  who  believed  the  feat  impossible, 
when  Turpin  was  found  in  York  on  the  after- 
noon of  the  day  of  the  affair. 

There  are  many  other  roads,  including  the 
"Pilgrims'  Way,"  from  St.  Michael's  Mount, 
the  old  Phoenician  quay  at  Penzance  in  Corn- 
wall, running  along  the  south  edge  of  the 
Downs,  past  SaHsbury,  Guildford,  Reigate, 
and  Sevenoaks  in  Kent,  to  the  North  Gate  and 
Christ-Church,  Canterbury — with  Thomas  a 
Becket's  shrine.  .  .  . 

Sunday  last  a  young  urchin  from  Bethnal- 
Green,  E.,  and  I  walked  down  to  Hythe,  con- 
sumed tea  and  buns,  and  went  on  in  the  'bus 
to  Sandgate.  Here  we  got  off  and  climbed 
the  cliff  to  the  "Leas,"  Folkestone's  famous 
watering-place.  We  walked  along  it  toward 
Folkestone,  past  the  huge  hotels — Metropole, 
Cecil,  etc. — into  Folkestone.     All  manner  of 


52  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

men,  and  women,  were  on  that  promenade: 
returned  Imperials  and  Canadians;  new 
Canadians;  blue-overalled  convalescents;  one- 
starred  Imperial  subalterns;  R.F.C.  boy 
Flight-Lieutenants — the  best  in  the  Kingdom 
— nineteen  years  old,  with  little  waxed  mous- 
taches ;  ferociously  hirsute  old  Colonels ;  R.  jST. 
Middies  and  Captains;  French  Captains;  Bel- 
gian officers;  N.C.O.'s  and  refugees;  beaucoup 
de  femmes;  and  a  few  exempted  men.  .  .  . 
Till  the  next. 

As  ever. 

Art. 

Lympne  Castle,  Lympne 
near  Hythe,  Kent 
May  5,  1917 

Dear  Syd  and  Ed: 

My  giddy  pen  came  very  near  lying  just 
above,  when  I  wrote  "April."  On  April  5  we 
had  just  sighted  Cape  Clear,  and  the  weather 
was  not  as  now. 

No  matter  how  hard  I  might  try,  I  could 
not  give  you  the  true  spirit  of  Kent,  and  I 
would  sorely  like  to  do  so,  for  I  feel  it  deeply, 
and  indeed  any  one  would,  at  this  time  of  the 
year.  I  am  writing  in  an  ancient  gabled  two- 
story  house,  of  plaster  and  stone,  with  thatched 
roof,  that  was  the  village  school  in  the  sev- 


FROM  KENTISH  TRAINING  CAMPS         53 

enties.  The  windows  are  set  with  small  leaded 
panes,  with  wrought-iron  fastenings  and  rods. 
The  floor  is  of  brick  flagging,  worn  in  certain 
paths  by  the  tread  of  feet.  In  the  corner  of 
the  room  a  hole  furnishes  a  place  for  a  ladder 
to  the  loft  above,  which  is  hung  with  herbs. 
I  fancy  there  are  staircases  elsewhere  in  the 
old  cottage,  but  they  are  not  in  evidence.  It 
is  now  used  as  a  Church  soldiers'  reading- 
room  and  tea  canteen,  and,  I  am  sorry  to  say, 
will  soon  close,  owing  to  the  starting  of  a 
Y.M.C.A.  hut  near  by. 

In  front  of  the  house,  beyond  the  crocuses 
and  primroses  in  the  garden,  is  the  High- 
Street,  for  even  this  little  hamlet  has  that  dis- 
tinction. There  are  three  old  farm-houses  in 
a  row,  a  block  of  old  stone  cottages,  the  village 
store  and  post-oflice,  then  a  right-angle  in  the 
High-Street,  and  another  row  of  the  same 
white  houses,  and  the  servants'  hall  and  mews 
of  the  "great  house,"  Lympne  Castle,  the  par- 
ish manor. 

The  castle  lies  just  beyond,  on  the  side  of  the 
stone  roadway,  with  two  towers  and  battle- 
ments toward  the  south.  Beyond  is  St. 
Stephen's,  Lympne  church.  Where  the  High- 
Street  bends  at  the  store  is  a  paved  lane,  lead- 
ing sharply  down  to  the  gardeners'  lodge,  at 


64  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

the  cliff  edge.  Below  this,  150  feet  or  so,  is 
the  Castra  Lemanis,  the  square  walls  of  the 
Roman  camp  still  standing,  intact  in  many 
places,  these  1900  years.  I  have  a  stone  from 
the  wall ;  round  and  well-set  in  the  lime  it  was. 
One  can  conjecture  at  ease  over  the  old  ruin. 
Did  the  legionary  in  bronze  hoop -armour,  who 
laid  the  stone  in  place,  relate  some  anecdote 
to  his  fellow  of  Nero's  wild  court?  or  mayhap 
— "I  hear  that  Pilatus  at  Hierosolyma  has  had 
a  great  to-do  with  the  Jews  over  some  fanatic 
or  other — a  certain  Cri — Cristus,  I  think, 
whom  he  sent  to  the  cross — bah!  what  rabble! 
Come,  Aulus,  a  bit  more  of  the  mortar!"  Oh, 
well — fancies!    And  yet,  quien  sahe? 

Kipling  has  written  a  new  book.  Noyes, 
Wells,  and  Conrad  are  silent  just  now.  Wells 
is  still  pursuing  the  British  monarchy,  how- 
ever, in  the  papers.  It  is  rather  a  pity  that  he 
is  too  old  to  join  up.  Hewlett  wrote  an  excel- 
lent skit  for  the  Mirror  the  other  day,  on  what 
the  late-middle-aged  author  can  do  for  the 
country  these  days.    Amusing,  rather. 

The  hope  is  rather  widely  expressed  that  the 
War  will  end  by  the  fall.  If  the  right  terms 
can  be  had,  let's  hope  for  it.  But — fifty-nine 
British  merchantmen  were  bagged  last  week, 
fifty-five  the  week  before,  and  only  twenty- 


FROM  KENTISH  TRAINING  CAMPS        55 

eight  two  weeks  ago.  The  Admii-alty  is  jolly 
well  catching  it  from  the  ha'penny  sheets,  and 
the  Mail,  with  John  Bull  of  course,  has  been 
quite  nasty.  .  .  . 

Yours, 

Art. 

2d  Reserve  Battery,  C.F.A. 
Risboro  Barracks,  Shorncliffe  Camp 
near  Folkestone,  Kent 
May  13,  1917 

Dear  Ed: 

Your  obedient  servant  landed  here  yester- 
day noon  from  Otterpool,  with  all  of  our  ar- 
tillery draft  there  encamped — 1500-odd  men 
and  officers.  We  marched.  Joy  was  abroad, 
for  Otterpool  the  cursed  was  left  behind.  I 
slept  all  the  afternoon,  and  went  up  to  Folke- 
stone in  the  evening. 

Shorncliffe  is  a  permanent  artillery  camp, 
founded  a  hundred  years  ago,  nearly,  for  the 
mobihsation  and  home-training  of  the  Home 
Forces— the  R.F.A.,  R.H.A.,  and  R.G.A. 
There  are  long  lines  of  brick  barracks  and  hut- 
ments, with  fine  sand  parade  grounds.  Ross 
Barracks  are  the  quarters  for  the  drivers,  and 
Risboro  for  the  gunners  and  signallers,  now 
that  ShorncHffe  has  become,  since  the  War, 
the  chief  Canadian  artillery  depot. 


56  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

I  am  assigned  as  a  gunner  to  the  heavy  guns, 
60-pounders,  I  think,  for  training  here.  We 
may  be  put  on  the  18-pounders,  but  it  does 
not  look  so.  At  all  events,  I  am  apparently 
a  gunner,  my  height  and  weight  being  in  the 
way  of  my  going  as  a  driver.  Of  course,  things 
have  not  really  begun  yet,  and  there  may  be 
changes.  I  am  in  a  tent  just  now,  but  to- 
morrow we  go  into  huts,  and  fine  huts  they  are 
— bunks  (springs!),  shelves,  stoves,  lavatory, 
et  cetera. 

Shorncliife  is  between  Cheriton  and  Sand- 
gate,  about  two  miles  from  Folkestone,  on  the 
plateau  below  the  chalk-clifFs.  .  .  .  The  chalk- 
clifFs  show  up  plainly  behind,  and  suggest 
numerous  associations :  "Copperfield,"  and  Mr. 
Dick's  kite  on  Shakespeare's  Cliff,  west  of 
Dover,  and  Shakespeare's  Cliff  itself,  with 
Lear's  ravings.  Csesar's  first  sight  of  Britain 
was  these  cliffs.  Directly  opposite  them,  from 
the  Leas  at  Folkestone,  you  can  plainly  see 
Cap  Gris-]N"ez,  and  the  coast  from  Calais  to 
Boulogne.  You  go  into  Folkestone  a  pied, 
or  by  the  'bus  from  Cheriton — tuppence 
ha'penny  tariff.  There  is  a  cinema  in  Cheri- 
ton, half-a-dozen,  with  a  legit,  theatre,  in 
Folkestone,  so  one  does  not  lack  for  amuse- 


FROM  KENTISH  TRAINING  CAMPS        57 

ment.    American  films  are  the  rule.    Chaplin 
is  still  the  thing.  .  .  . 

And  now  for  the  gossip  of  Mayfair  and  the 
Strand — which  is  tout  le  monde  to  England. 
Bread  is  being  reduced  by  voluntary  ration- 
ing to  four  pounds  a  person  a  week;  potatoes 
are  nearly  unobtainable,  sugar  very  scarce; 
tobacco  has  risen  a  penny  and  tuppence  on  the 
five-pence  packet,  and  is  scarce  in  many  places ; 
butter  is  two  shillings  and  margarine  becom- 
ing scarce,  even  more  so  than  butter;  meat  is 
more  plentiful,  and  the  "meatless  day"  order 
is  abolished  (which  decreed  one  day  without 
meat  every  w^eek — Wednesday  in  London, 
Thursday  elsewhere) ;  horse  racing  is  banned 
by  the  Oovernment  ("public  opinion  and  the 
scarcity  of  corn") ;  Newmarket  deserted;  the 
Derby  and  the  Oaks  will  probably  not  be  run 
— ^but  opinion  is  going  the  other  way,  against 
the  Government;  the  House  is  in  secret  ses- 
sion daily,  Bonar-Law  presiding  in  the  Pre- 
mier's absence;  the  Admiralty  is  widely  criti- 
cised for  the  damage  done  by  the  U-boats ;  the 
Prince  is  going  to  take  an  English  bride,  and 
hence  one  not  of  the  Royalty;  he  is  strongly 
urged  to  drop  his  motto,  "Ich  Dienf  for  pa- 
triotic reasons;  volunteers  are  called  for  for 
the  Army,  up  to  fifty  years;  compulsion  may 


58  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

extend  to  that  age ;  starch  is  banned,  and  aboli- 
tion of  stiff  collars  and  shirts  is  near;  soft 
stocks  and  complete  change  of  men's  clothes  is 
advocated — knee-breeches  and  stockings  again ; 
girls'  conduct  in  public  is  criticised,  and  they 
are  said  to  be  losing  their  "manners" — (too 
open  and  free  going-about  with  soldiers — 
shocking!)  ;  Captain  Ball,  D.S.O.,  V.C.,  who 
downed  fifty  Boche  aircraft,  is  missing;  if 
Lens  Cathedral  is  attacked  by  the  Huns,  our 
reprisal  will  be  Cologne  Cathedral ;  etc.  .  .  . 

We  may  be  here  for  a  month,  or  two  or  more 
— it's  uncertain.    Cheerio! 

As  ever,  yours. 

Art. 

It  is  interesting  to  follow  from  the  start 
Wainwright's  delight  at  the  new  cry  of 
"Cheero."  To  one  who  had  long  held  as  his 
watchword  "toujours  gai/'  "Cheero"  and 
"Cheerio"  made  an  instant  appeal.  He  could 
use  the  phrase  lightly,  when  waving  to  a  pass- 
ing stranger;  and  yet,  like  Donald  Hankey's 
"Philosopher,"  he  could  make  it  a  text  for 
some  of  the  deepest  lessons  the  war  had  to 
teach. 


FROM  KENTISH  TRAINING  CAMPS        59 

Shorncliffe,  Kent 
June  3,  1917 

Dear  Syd  : 

.  .  .  Three  days  ago  I  visited  Hythe  with 
one  Balkwill  of  the  Battery,  once  of  Toronto 
U.,  and  something  of  a  kindred  spirit.  We 
went  up  the  bluif  back  of  the  town,  with  its 
narrow  stone  houses  and  connecting  passages, 
that,  in  the  palmy  days  of  "The  Gentlemen" 
in  Kent  and  Sussex,  gave  convenient  access 
from  one  house  to  another,  from  street  to 
street,  sheltering  temporarily  Lyons  silk, 
Rouen  scarfs,  Bordeaux  wines,  Valenciennes 
lace,  and  fine  satin  out  of  Normandie  and 
Bretagne,  Poitou  and  Gascogne — to  the  confu- 
sion of  irate  officers  of  the  King's  Customs. 
The  houses  and  cottages  of  this  part  of  the 
town  are  practically  intact,  and,  with  the  fine 
High- Street,  wdth  its  old  inns  and  shops, 
scarcely  twenty  feet  broad,  winding  under  the 
hillside,  are  a  fine  reminder  of  le  vieux  temps. 

There  is  a  stone  set  in  the  wall  of  the  "Gold- 
en Lion"  in  High-Street  that  reads,  in  XVIII 
century  letters,  "To  London  Bridge,  71  miles: 
to  Ashford  14."  This  is  the  London  Road  of 
those  days:  London,  Borough,  Pembury, 
Sevenoaks,  Tonbridge,  Tenterden,  Ashford, 
Hythe,  Folkestone,  and  Dover  Pier. 


60  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

The  church,  above  the  town,  has  a  crypt  with 
a  great  number  of  skulls  and  bones  showing, 
the  remains  of  an  ancient  battle  between  the 
Saxons  and  the  Britons  near  Sandgate,  south 
of  ShornclifFe.  It  is  a  Norman  affair.  .  .  . 
Two  miles  north  of  Hythe  is  Saltwood  Castle, 
in  the  village  of  that  name,  where,  on  a  De- 
cember night  of  1170  A.D.  the  four  Norman 
knights  held  council  on  the  dark  deed  that 
should  follow.  The  next  morning  they  rode 
north  along  Stone- Street,  and  in  at  the  Riding- 
gate  to  Christ-Church  gate,  for  the  murder  of 
Becket.  And  likewise,  but  with  very  different 
purpose,  the  world  has  done  ever  since.  .  .  . 
Yours,  with  luck! 

Art. 

6th  Siege  Section 

Shorncliffe,  Kent 

July  6,  1917 

Dear  Francis: 

Ed  told  me  about  you,  and  I  was  very 
pleased,  believe  me,  to  learn  that  you  were  in 
it  even  before  la  guerre  declaree — but  was  it 
much  of  a  wrench,  leaving  H.  and  the  Yard, 
and  all  that?  God  knows  it  was  for  me.  I 
felt  completely  lost — it  being,  as  you  see,  the 
first  time  since  I  was  four  years  old  that  I 
had  my  days  to  myself  at  that  time  of  year. 


FROM  KENTISH  TRAINING  CAMPS         61 

But  only  for  a  week  was  it  so.  Then  came  the 
musical  Sergeant's  voice  to  break  the  monot- 
ony— and  indeed  the  same  has  broken  it  very 
effectively  ever  since. 

Mon  Dieu,  but  I  am  overjoyed  to  see  all  that 
America  is  beginning  in  this  thing :  it  is  great, 
and  none  appreciate  it  better  than  the  British 
people.  The  Glorious  Fourth  went  off  finely 
in  London.  So  carry  on,  mon  ami,  carry 
on!  .  .  . 

A  Dartmouth  friend  of  mine  writes  me  re- 
cently from  there,  with  much  good  news  of 
what  Hanover  has  sent  forth  into  the  War. 
At  his  writing  (and  that  of  an  English  in- 
structor of  mine)  there  were  only  four  hun- 
dred left  that  had  not  gone  in.  That  is  well 
indeed.  .  .  .  You  may  remember  that  I  first 
wore  a  uniform  there.  There  were  a  scant 
two  hundred  of  us — jeered  and  hooted  at,  and 
occasionally  praised  a  bit.  Well,  ga  est  temps 
perdu  and  gone.  But  I  look  back  on  Dart- 
mouth with  much  more  pleasantness  than  I 
once  did.  .  .  . 

tYours,  as  ever, 

Aethuk. 


62  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

Risboro  Barracks,  Shorncliffe,  Kent 
July  10.  1917 

Deae  Mr.  Lane: 

...  I  never  hope  to  find  better  spirit  than 
is  manifested  everywhere  in  omnibus  ordinibus 
here  in  the  Old  Country,  in  this  third  year  of 
war  shortly  closing.  The  men,  all  the  fit,  are 
at  the  War  itself,  except  the  "C.O.'s"  (not 
"commanding  officers"  but  "conscientious  ob- 
jectors"), of  which  a  few  remain.  The  women 
work  at  munitions,  clerking,  V.A.D.,  Women's 
Auxiliary,  office  jobs  at  the  Front,  cooks  in  the 
camps — with  no  shame  offered  by  the  soldiers. 
The  old  men  tend  allotments  and  gloat  over 
the  size  and  quality  of  the  potato  crop.  The 
boys  run  'buses,  clerk  in  shops,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing.  The  flappers  are  perhaps  at 
once  the  least  and  most  patriotic  of  all.  They 
do  no  work  to  speak  of,  but  greatly  cheer  the 
Subs  (Second  Lieutenants)  and  others  on  that 
tour  in  Elysium  known  as  Seven  Days'  Leave 
—back  to  Blighty!  And  "Cheero!"  is  the  call 
everywhere  in  this  dark  time,  the  irrepressible 
optimism  of  the  British,  who  dearly  love  to 
grouse  (=  Yankee  "kick")  but  turn  it  all  into 
a  joke  at  the  finish,  which  is  the  main  thing. 
All  luck  to  the  British — and  in  their  falling 
may  the  earth  lie  lightly  on  them.  .  .  . 


FROM  KENTISH  TRAINING  CAMPS        6S 

Great  news  has  reached  me  of  the  doings  in 
America  this  summer — and,  so  far  as  I  have 
heard,  of  my  friends  nuUus  ahest,  which  is 
good  indeed.  You  probably  know  more  of  it 
than  I,  but  some  things  you  may  not  have 
heard.  My  brother  Gyles  is  hunting  a  com- 
mission at  Plattsburg.  A  good  friend  of  mine 
at  Dartmouth,  P.  L.  Gould,  '17,  is  there  also, 
and  with  him  many  others.  Edward,  Sydney, 
Foxcroft,  and  your  son  are  carrying  on  in  the 
Day's  Work,  each  in  his  own  way. 

I  would  be  very  glad  if  I  could  be  among 
them  now — that  all  might  do  it  together;  but 
it  was  not  so  written,  and  my  way  lay  differ- 
ently. As  to  this  matter  I  cannot  say  much, 
except  that  for  me  it  was  the  only  course.  I 
left  no  word  of  my  action  because  those  who 
would  understand  it  might  be  few.  I  well 
knew  who  they  were,  and  had  no  wish  to  con- 
done or  explain  to  those  who  would  blame  me. 
I  had  chosen  my  way,  and  it  must  at  best  be  a 
lonely  one.  I  thank  God  that  my  father  is 
glad  of  what  I  have  done.  .  .  . 

I  should  be  happy  to  hear  from  you  with 
your  American  news  at  any  time,  and  I  hope 
to  hear  it  soon!  IMy  best  wishes  to  yourself, 
and  Frederick,  and  the  Scouts,  and  my  friends. 
Tell  the  Scouts  that,  now  that  America  is  in 


64>  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

this  thing,  they  must  carry  on  with  it  till  the 
Huns  are  licked  to  a  standstill,  for  nothing 
else  will  do! 

Sincerely  your  friend,  and  sometime  Scout, 
Arthur  A.  Stanley. 
No.  343939,  C.G.A. 


CHAPTER  III 

AT  HORSHAM  SIEGE  SCHOOL 

From  Shorncliffe  to  Roffey  Camp  in  Sussex — Horsham 
Routine — A  Walk  to  Broadbridge — To  Cuckfield  by 
Bicycle— "Deah  Old  Blighty" 

Wainwright's  resume,  already  referred  to, 
shows  well  what  he  remembered  best: 

lA  July:  Train  to  Horsham,  N.-W.  Sussex; 
Siege  School  there  at  Roffey  Camp. 

lA  July — 2 A  August:  Horsham  Siege 
School — gun  drill,  foot  drill,  howitzer  drill, 
ropes  and  tackle,  knots,  hoists,  route  marches, 
et  cetera. 

2Ji.  August:  Train  to  Bexhill,  Sussex  (near 
Hastings)  :  waiting  camp  before  Lydd  train- 
ing. Journeys  over  Pevensey  Levels,  to 
Brightling  and  Battle. 

28  August  (?):  Train  to  Lydd.  Firing 
Camp.    Firing  to  follow. 

65 


66  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

8d  Class  Carriage  No. 

S.E.  Sf  C.  Ry.,  en  route  to 
Dorking,  Surrey 
July  U,  1917 

Dear  Mr.  Stearns: 

We  have  left  Tonbridge  Town,  and  are  blar- 
ing away  for  Redhill,  Reigate,  and  Dorking, 
having  just  left  Penshurst  now.  Our  ultimate 
destination  is  Horsham,  Sussex,  but  one  has  to 
change  at  Dorking  for  the  Brighton  &  South 
Coast  line.  We  might  have  gone  by  The 
Wells,  East  Grimsted,  and  Crawley,  through 
north  Sussex,  but  the  S.  E.  h  C.  people  ap- 
parently wanted  to  keep  us  on  their  line  longer. 
Damn  the  iron  horse,  anyway:  I  have  no  use 
for  it,  like  Tony  Weller.  It  has  commercial- 
ised and  narrowed  Old  England.  Charing 
Cross — rattle,  toot,  plunk-a-plunk — ninety 
minutes,  and  you  are  in  Dover.  Hey  for  the 
more  spacious  days,  a  mail-coach  and  four!  ere 
ever  this  steam  leviathan  entered  this  sunny 
green  land ;  hey  for  the  fanfare  of  the  guard's 
horn,  rather  than  the  brazen  siren's  shriek! 
Well,  I  can  write  no  more  at  this  rate  of  legi- 
bility.   We  are  coming  into  Redhill. 

Roffey  Camp,  Horsham,  Sussex 

We  have  come.  We  dropped  into  Sussex 
by  Horley  instead  of  Reigate,  and  are  now 


AT  HORSHAM  SIEGE  SCHOOL  67 

ensconced  very  comfortably  about  a  mile  and  a 
half  north  of  the  town.  But  enough — H.M. 
the  Censor  doesn't  like  particulars  of  the 
troops.  We  are  here  for  two  months,  how- 
ever, with  the  R.G.A.  and  other  Imperial 
units.  There  are  some  Portuguese  officers 
here  learning  their  gun-drill.  They  wear  a 
grey-blue  and  square-topped  cap,  much  like  the 
Huns,  for  whom  they  were  mistaken  at  times, 
when  they  first  appeared  at  the  Front,  to  their 
great  discomfort. 

It  was  a  fine  trip  hitherward.  You  leave 
Headcorn  in  the  heart  of  the  Weald,  and  carry 
on  directly  westward.  The  green  trees  and 
vast  houses  and  orchards — with  the  dull  hazy 
look  of  everything — ogives  the  feeling  to  one 
that  it  has  been  so  in  the  past,  is  now,  and  will 
continue.  It  is  so  peaceful — this  cahn  old 
Kentish  upland,  with  the  dipping  hills  and 
white  roads  winding  through  the  fields  and 
hedgerows : 

"Belt  upon  belt,  the  wooded,  dim 
Blue  goodness  of  the  Weald." 

At  Tonbridge  the  London  Road  cuts 
through  it.  In  a  low  valley  it  lies.  To  the 
north  the  highway  leads  up  to  the  hilly  region 


68  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

of  Sevenoaks,  over  River  Hill  and  Pembury. 
You  haA^e  read  Farnol's  jolly  novels,  "The 
Amateur  Gentleman"  and  "The  Broad  Hijjh- 
way"  ?  This  is  their  scene,  and  this  old  road  the 
"Broad  Highway."  The  London  Road— all 
roads  lead  to  London — and  to  Rome!  In 
front  of  the  Camp  entrance  is  a  finger-post, 
and  a  milestone  near  by: 

C  4^  R 

T«    London 
35'Hiles 

The  road  runs  into  the  Brighton  Road,  and  on 
through  Reigate — the  Brighton  Road  of  the 
Regent's  palmier  days.  It  is  probably  rather 
easy  to  see — que  j'aime  le  vieux  ternps. 

18  Juhj 

We,  or  rather  I,  have  marked  time  for  these 
few  days — the  entire  camp  being  C.  B.'d  for 
something  that  unfortunately  came  to  pass. 
But  now,  this  evening,  we  are  free. 

Our  routine  may  interest  you.  Contrary  to 
ShornclifFe  practice,  this  camp  is  run  upon 
Imperial  lines.  "Imperial,"  in  the  British 
forces,  means  Regular  Home  Army,  and  the 


AT  HORSHAM  SIEGE  SCHOOL  69 

Service  (war)  units  thereof:  all  other  troops 
are  Colonials,  or  Territorials,  or  Volunteers, 
et  cetera — and  there  is  a  world  of  difference 
between  the  first  and  the  latter!  We  hear 
"Revelly"  at  5'A5,  instead  of  5;  at  6:45  we 
turn  out  for  Reveille  Parade — one  hour  foot- 
drill,  signalling,  or  P.T.  ("Physical  Jerks"  or 
"Physical  Torture").  Then  comes  breakfast 
and  clean-up. 

Morning  Parade  goes  at  9,  ends  at  12:30, 
followed  by  dinner;  at  2,  Afternoon  Parade, 
ending  at  4:30,  followed  by  tea;  at  5:15  Lec- 
ture, ending  at  6 :15.  Then  we  are  on  our  own 
till  10;  late  passes  till  12,  occasionally:  those 
alone  could  be  had  easier  at  Shorncliff  e.  The 
JMorning  and  Afternoon  Parades  are  split  into 
hour,  three-quarter  hour,  or  two-hour  sessions 
— at  6-inch  gun-drill,  8-inch,  5-inch,  60-pound- 
ers,  signalling,  foot-drill,  route  marching  (be- 
loved by  all),  digging  D.D.'s  (double-deck 
gun-platforms) ,  ramming,  gun  leverage,  knots 
and  lashings,  lectures  on  gun-drill,  lajdng,  tac- 
tics (very  little  of  this — the  work  is  practical 
to  extreme).  Altogether  interesting  days 
enough,  and  not  bad  hours  at  all. 

This  afternoon  there  is  a  Bath  Parade  in 
addition.  Everything  in  the  Army  is  done  by 
parades.    You  parade  for  drill,  lectures,  pay. 


70  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

marching,  passes,  bath,  interview  with  an 
officer,  and  more.  (Near  by  there  is  an  effu- 
sive Londoner  from  Poplar,  whose  language 
is  highly  seasoned  with  "Gawdblimy,"  and  the 
picturesque  and  distinctive  adjective  of  those- 

born-in-sound-of-Bow-Bells —    *' ,"    c'est 

assez!) 

20  July 

Delays  again!  But  it  is  always  the  way. 
This  morning,  after  a  bit  of  a  nasty  fall  yes- 
terday whilst  galloping  about  in  P.T.,  I  went 
on  Sick  Parade  to  secure  that  boon  of  the  sol- 
dier, "L.D." — Light  Duty.  There  is  another, 
rarer  still — Excused  Duty.  But  this  last  is 
rarely  dispensed  to  mortals  by  the  gods  that 
hold  high  heaven.  My  particular  Deus-Ar- 
biter  to-day  was  the  Imperial  Camp  M.O. 
(Medical  Officer) — a  bit  of  a  waxy  old  chap 
who  in  the  avant-guerre  probably  earned  a  re- 
spectable surgeon's  competence  in  a  nice  red 
villa  in  Kensington,  or  Putney  way.  He  ma- 
nipulated my  right  arm,  and  hemmed  and 
heyed  over  it,  finally  refusing  the  suppliant 
(Your  Humble  Obdt.)  the  wished-for  boon 
(of  a  pleasant  day's  rest).  Anyway,  it  gives 
one  the  morning  free,  so  I'll  abide  the  dispen- 
sation, will-he  nill-he,  of  course.  The  dear  old 
thing  must  have  thought  I  was  swanking  it. 


AT  HORSHAM  SIEGE  SCHOOL  71 

or  swinging  the  lead,  for  he  said  to  a  later  boil 
case  that  he  gladly  gave  L.D.  to  a  "real  in- 
stance of  incapacitation."  Oh,  well,  c'est  egal. 
(Later  memo. — I  did  get  L.D.,  after  all. 
Joy!) 

Last  Sunday  I  went  a  great  walk  out  of 
Horsham,  to  Broadbridge,  a  be-villa'ed  ham- 
let that  has  claim  to  notice  in  Field  Place,  with 
its  grey  stone  and  stucco  among  the  elms — the 
birthplace  of  Shelley.  Stroodpark,  beyond, 
westward,  is  a  pleasant  country  house — the 
Manor  of  Slinfold,  I  think.  But  a  mile  or  so 
further  you  come  out  of  a  wooded  patch  into 
the  green  fallow  fields  and  swamp  thickets 
about  the  Arun  (river),  and  straight  to  the 
south  runs  Stane-Street,  the  Roman  way  from 
Regnum  to  Londinium  ("  'Regnum's  Chiches- 
ter,' said  Puck").  The  fine  shingle  and  flint 
bed  is  still  intact  in  many  places — that  the 
legions  brought  in  long  basket-lines,  from  the 
coast  beaches.  Across  the  Street,  by  the  south 
side  of  the  stream,  is  Dedisham,  the  Manor 
House  of  this  parish  ("Jook  o'  Nawf oik's 
property,"  a  tenant  told  me) .  As  you  come  to 
the  big  farm  houses,  let  out  to  several  holders, 
you  cross  a  moat  that  is  still  filled  with  Arun 
water,  and  the  parados  within  suddenly  shuts 
off  the  view  of  the  buildings  for  a  time. 


72 


A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 


This  was  Mediabunum,  the  taberna  vim 
honi  of  Latin  times,  and  the  half-way  garrison 
on  the  Stane-Street.  This  was  the  halt  at  the 
end  of  the  second  march,  for  rest  and  long 
skins  of  British  ale  and  mead.     Perhaps  the 


|>J.TC/?AS3|V3J 


wet  canteen  of  those  times  bore  some  such  de- 
vice as  this.  I  picked  up  flints  and  Roman 
brick  and  tile,  that  are  ploughed  up  constantly 
in  the  fields.  The  nearest  point  on  Stane- 
Street,  where  the  road  disappears  into  a  track 
over  the  hillside,  with  "Roman  Woods"  flank- 
ing it  to  the  west,  is  still  called  "Roman-Gate," 
likely  being  the  site  of  the  decuman  that  opened 
into  Mediabunum.  At  the  top  you  may  see 
how  I  came.  [Sketch.]  There  were  two  of 
us — Balkwill  of  Toronto  U.,  the  other  a  re- 
turned chap  v/ho  got  his  gold  stripe  last  winter 
in  the  T.M.B.'s  at  Vimy,  a  school  teacher  in 
Ontario. 

St.  Leonard's  Forest  extends  east  from  here : 
now,  of  course,  it  is  pretty  well  broken  up  by 


AT  HORSHAM  SIEGE  SCHOOL  73 

meadow.  It  extends  across  the  Brighton  Road 
to  Tilgate  Forest  and  Worth  Forest.  Ash- 
down  Forest  and  the  continuation  of  the  North 
Downs  bring  you  to  Rotherfield  and  Bur- 
wash.  You  leave  Horsham  eastwards — as  I 
rode  yesterday  on  a  second-hand  cycle  I  just 
bought  for  three  quid — by  Doomsday  Green 
and  Birchenbridge  House,  quite  a  sizeable  es- 
tate. Manning's  Heath,  Lower  Beeding,  and 
Plmnmer's  Plain  House.  You  turn  here  for 
Cuckfield. 

A  mile  or  so  out  of  Horsham  I  met  with  a 
youngish  chap  who  borrowed  my  pump,  and 
we  carried  on  together.  He  wore  tweed  cycling 
things.  My  word,  but  I  envied  him!  for  he 
was  one  of  that  rare  species  of  the  genus  Homo 
— "CiviUs/"  His  heart  and  wind  were  not  of 
the  best,  and  one  could  easily  see  by  the  hard 
breathing  at  the  hills  that  he  should  be  exempt. 
It  was  jolly  rum  to  see  him  sticking  it — we 
dismounted  only  once. 

Well — to  get  on.  He  was  an  educated,  lit- 
erary sort  of  fellow,  and  wrote  a  bit,  short 
stories,  he  said;  Fortnightly,  once  or  twice; 
now  reviewed  books  for  the  London  Films,  the 
chief  cinema  people  in  the  British  Isles.  ("How 
doth  the  busy  little  fihn  employ  each  idle 
bard!" — Lady  Montagu,  Wells,  Shaw,  Ben- 


74  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

nett,  all  have  written  for  the  cinema ;  and  d'you 
know,  even  I,  moi  qui  vous  ecrive,  have 
thoughts  of  joining  the  blessed  show,  and  writ- 
ing a  giddy  scenario ! )  He  talked,  sur  la  route, 
of  the  War,  inevitably;  of  what  certain  writers 
wrote  on  it;  of  the  heroics  attributed  to  parents 
who  lose  their  sons,  which  he  didn't  at  all  be- 
lieve in.  He  and  I  hoped  that  the  thing  soon 
would  end — but,  God  knows,  what's  the  use  of 
hoping? 

He  told  me  of  a  William  Caine  who  writes 
capitally  humorous  sketches  of  present-day 
British  life — "not,  not  Hall  Caine,  that,  that 
abhorred  person!"  so  he  evidently  didn't  like 
"The  Christian,"  and  the  rest  of  his.  H.  Caine 
is  prophesying  about  the  war,  as  many  others 
do  with  (often)  little  success:  Bennett,  Noyes, 
Conan  Doyle,  Belloc  (one  of  the  more  suc- 
cessful), Wells,  and  so  on.  It  was  a  treat  to 
hear  his  accentuation  and  stressings — quite  the 
Harrow  and  Holywell  air,  though  whether  he 
was  Cantab,  or  Oxon.  or  what,  I  do  not  know. 

We  rode  into  Cuckfield  about  four,  and 
stopped  for  tea  at  the  "Rose  and  Crown."  The 
service  and  fare  were  excellent.  My  acquaint- 
ance, whose  name  I  forget,  had  to  carry  on  to 
Hayward's  Heath  and  Lewes  for  the  night. 
As  for  me,  I  had  my  bike  seen  to  at  a  shop. 


AT  HORSHAM  SIEGE  SCHOOL  75 

and  visited  the  Church,  St.  Mary's,  Early  Nor* 
man,  with  Norman-EngHsh  nave  and  altar. 
In  it  there  is  a  wooden  tablet  ornamented  with 
the  names  of  all  the  vicars  and  priests  from 
1230,  when  they  began  to  be  supplied  by  the 
Lewes  College  of  Priors.     The  church  was 

founded  by  William  da ,  Earl  of  Kent, 

in  1080. 

There  is  a  fine  view  from  the  churchyard 
west  to  Hayward's  Heath  and  the  Ouse  Val- 
ley, and  south  over  the  dim  green  lowlands 
to  Hurstpierpoint,  Lewes,  and  the  South 
Downs,  where,  as  it  was  a  misty  day,  one  had 
to  fancy  the  locations  of  Ditchling,  Devil's 
Dyke,  and  Chanctonbury  Ring.  Well,  some 
day,  if  so  the  Three  Sisters  permit,  I  shall  go 
thither.  I  learned  from  my  fellow  wayfarer 
that  Lieutenant  John  Kipling,  son  of  Rudyard 
Kiphng,  was  killed  last  year  on  the  Western 
Front.  I  had  not  known  that.  The  son  can- 
not have  been  more  than  eighteen  or  so.  And 
you  remember  the  poem  in  "A  Diversity  of 
Creatures":  "But  who  shall  return  us  the  chil- 
dren?" 

I  think  it  is  high  time  that  you  received  these 
rambling  notes,  so  this  page  shall  be  the  last. 
There  has  been  a  fair  this  v/eek  in  Horsham — 
an  English  country  fair,  of  the  sort  that  travel 


76  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

ceaselessly  up  and  down  in  the  warm  weather, 
from  Edinboro  Town  to  Colney  Hatch,  from 
Fishguard  to  Grimsby  and  Lowestoft,  from 
Land's  End  to  John  o'  Groat's:  the  beloved 
flying-horses  of  "Jackanapes"  in  Mrs.  Ewing's 
story,  amusement  swings,  ring  games,  Small- 
est-Couple-in-the-World,  sweets  stands,  re- 
freshment bars — but,  alack !  no  waxworks,  pan- 
tomime, or  pea-and-thimble  game !  There  is  a 
reason,  though,  of  course:  "It's  the  War!" 
But  there  was  abundance  of  confetti  for  the 
Tommies  to  throw  at  laughing  Sussex  lasses. 
Every  one  in  England  this  Spring  has  been 
singing  this  noble  ditty,  so  I  send  it  to  you. 
It's  a  bit  direct  from  1917  England,  and  Lon- 
don-in-the-East : 

^^Tylie  me  back  to  deah  old  Bligh-ty, 
Put  me  on  the  tryne  for  Lunnon  Tahn; 
Tyke  me  over  tlieah,  drop  me  anyw'ere, 
BruTnmagem,  Leeds  or  3IanchesteT,  oh,  I 

don't  cake. 
/  should  like  to  see  my  best  gell ; 
Cuddlin'  up  again  soon  she'll  be — Whoa! 
Ighty,  Iddley,  Ighty,  'urry  me  back  to 

Blighty, 
Blighty  is  the  plice  for  me  !'* 

Blighty,  as  you  probably  know,  =  hi-lawaiti, 
Urdu  for  "the  home  district."  I  think  I'm 
right. 


AT  HORSHAM  SIEGE  SCHOOL  77 

I  hope  you  get  this  in  due  season,  and  that 
your  stay  in  Cambridge  was  fruitful  and 
pleasant.  Write  me  of  it,  will  you?  Forgive 
the  pen,  please,  for  its  faults.    JVIy  address  is 

,  343939,  6th  Siege  Section,  10th  Can. 

Siege  Battery,  C.G.A.,  RofFey  Camp,  Hor- 
sham, Sussex,   c/o  Army  P.O.,  London. 
Yours, 

Art.  a.  Stanley. 

Roffey  Camp,  Horsham,  Sussex 
July  15 

Dear  S yd  : 

.  .  .  We  got  well  settled  in  camp  yesterday 
afternoon — at  Roffey,  a  hamlet  a  mile  and  a 
half  north  of  Horsham.  We  are  in  wooden 
huts,  with  hot  and  cold  water,  baths,  electricity, 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  It  really  is  a  jolly 
place.  Sussex  is  more  congenial  and  friendly 
than  Kent  even,  and  every  one  wishes  you  well 
— les  filles,  les  dames,  les  hommes,  les  enfants, 
les  chiens,  les  animaux.  .  .  . 

As  ever — how  goes  it  all? 

Art. 


78  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

€th  Siege  Section,  10th  Can.  Siege 
Battery,  C.G.A. 
Roffey  Camp,  Horsham,  Sussex 
July  U,  1917 

Dear  Mr.  Merrill: 

I've  written  twice  since  I  received  your  let- 
ter, about  July  1.  We  have  but  recently  moved 
here,  and  I've  had  very  little  time  to  write. 
Yours  of  June  24  reached  me  here  to-day,  hav- 
ing been  forwarded  from  ShornclifFe. 

We  left  Shorncliffe  July  14,  proceeaing  by 
train  from  Cheriton  Station  through  Ashford 
and  Headcorn.  Do  you  remember  the  debacle 
in  "The  Amateur  Gentleman,"  where  Barna- 
bas rode  from  London,  on  a  stormy  night,  to 
Chichester's  place  at  Headcorn,  forestalled 
Cleone,  got  himself  shot  by  Chichester,  and 
witnessed  Barrymaine  and  Chichester's  double 
duel?  That  was  here,  and  you  could  see  the 
little  village  street  and  the  London  Road.  .  .  . 

Horsham  is  a  pretty  town,  rather  modernly 
be-villa'ed  in  places,  and  newer  in  appearance 
than  many  towns.  It  is  in  the  northwestern 
part  of  the  Sussex  Weald,  the  old  Andredes- 
wold  of  the  Venerable  Bede,  a  blue,  generally 
misty  wooded  upland  region  that  extends  north 
to  the  North  Downs  (Dorking,  Guildford, 
Reigate)  and  east  to  Maidstone  and  Ashford 
in  Kent;  south  it  curves  nearly  to  the  South 


AT  HORSHAM  SIEGE  SCHOOL  79 

Downs,  and  east  through  Cuckfield,  Ashdown 
Forest,  to  Battle  and  Appledore  in  Kent.  It 
is  the  finest  part  of  Sussex  by  the  Sea.  White 
roads,  hamlets,  and  a  number  of  streams  split 
up  the  great  green  landscape.  If  possible  it 
is  more  beautiful  than  Kent. 

We  are  encamped  with  Imperial  (i.e..  Regu- 
lar Army)  units  here,  in  a  well-run  little  camp, 
that  it  would  not  be  well  to  speak  too  much  of. 
Fritz  and  his  Fokkers,  Albatrossen,  and  Go- 
thas  like  to  pry  into  new  places  for  their  over- 
head raids.  But  don't  worry  on  this  score.  His 
purposes  in  air-raids  are  not  the  losses  in  build- 
ings and  material,  principally,  for  the  victims 
are  generally  women,  children,  and  the  infirm. 
They  aim  at  keeping  our  battleplanes  here  at 
home,  for  our  harassing  and  securing  of  in- 
formation at  the  Front  by  them  have  not  been 
relished  on  his  side  at  all.  I  do  not  know  how 
much  has  been  passed  through  to  the  States 
about  the  raids.  The  first  Folkestone  affair, 
in  which  I  had  a  fairly  lively  part,  was  known 
all  over  Canada.  But  enough:  Fritz  Flieger 
is  essentially  a  coward.  He  flies,  when  pos- 
sible, three  miles  high,  losing  good  aim  while 
he  gains  in  his  own  safety. 

I  haven't  had  my  week's  leave  yet,  but  this 


80  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

(the  King's  Leave)  can't  be  taken  from  me, 
and  I'll  get  it  after  our  training  here  is  done. 
I  contemplate  visiting  Oxford,  Stratford-on- 
Avon,  the  Thames  Valley,  and  London,  with 
a  trip  into  Cornwall  and  Devon  if  I  can  do  it. 
You  can  probably  suggest  to  me  things  I 
should  not  miss  seeing.  I'd  be  much  obliged  if 
you  would.  At  the  present  rate  of  the  mails 
I  would  receive  your  answer  in  time,  I  think. 
We  are  here  for  six  weeks  yet. 

Your  letters,  and  others  I  receive,  take  from 
three  weeks  to  a  month  to  reach  me.  Regis- 
tered mail  takes  a  month.  .  .  .  Your  letters 
are  opened  by  the  censor,  but  untouched  so  far. 
How  about  mine  ? 

There  are  some  Portuguese  officers  here,  in 
pale  blue  denim,  learning  the  gunners'  artillery 
drill,  even  as  we.  They  talk  a  voluble  and  gus- 
ty stream,  but  many  know  French,  though  few 
any  English  to  speak  of.  We  have  to  salute 
them.    They  return  it  thus : 


AT  HORSHAM  SIEGE  SCHOOL  81 

We  salute,  as  you  may  know,  with  palm  to 
the  front,  elbow  nearly  in  line  with  shoulder, 
forefinger  above  eye.  .  .  . 

One  may  secure  a  week-end  pass  of  thirty- 
six  hours  once  a  month  or  less,  and  I  hope  to 
get  to  Hastings,  Battle,  and  Kipling's  village, 
Burwash;  and  tlu^ough  Surrey  on  the  other 
one  I  hope  for. 

I'm  glad  Gyles  has  gone  into  the  Artillery. 
Tell  him  the  heavier  the  gun  the  better.  I 
transferred,  with  most  of  the  2d  Battery,  C.F. 
A.,  to  the  Siege  Artillery  ( Canadian  Garrison 
Artillery),  and  hence  came  to  Horsham  to 
train.  I  am  in  a  draft  to  the  6th  Battery, 
C.G.A.,  now  at  [about  six  words  erased  by  the 
censor] — ^unless  we  are  shifted  to  something 
else.  It  is  an  8-inch  howitzer  battery — the  new 
British  gun,  that  was  first  used  in  this  war. 
It's  a  bit  big,  you  know,  so  we  are  from  two 
to  five  miles  back  of  the  very  Front.  We're 
not  hit  by  Fritz  nearly  so  often  as  the  lighter 
pieces  that  are  up  close.  But  it's  mighty  hard 
work,  and  not  at  all  a  cushy  job.  {Cushy 
means  "soft,"  "easy,"  in  American  Eng- 
lish.)  .  .  . 

We  have  the  British  uniform  and  kit  in  most 
things,  and  in  the  British  Army,  of  which  we 


82  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

shall  be  a  part  when  we  go  over,  a  private's 
time  is  spent  in  his  spare  periods,  at  morning, 
noon,  and  eve,  in  shining  his  brass  buttons, 
cap-badge,  boots,  bandolier,  bandolier-brass, 
and  cap -strap.  The  U.  S.  uniform  doesn't 
have  these  shine-accoutrements.  .  .  . 
Yours  sincerely, 

Arthur  A.  Stanley. 


CHAPTER  rV 
IN  KIPLING'S  COUNTRY 

Christ's  Hospital — The  Head — A  Deputy-Grecian — 
The  "Rose  and  Crown"  at  Burwash — Bateman's — 
In  S.  Hemsley's  Tap-room — An  Innkeeper's  Rem- 
iniscences of  the  Kiplings — On  Pook's  Hill — "Oak 
and  Ash  and  Thorn" — To  Battle  and  Hastings 

6th  Siege  Section 
10th  Can.  Siege  Bty.,  C.G.A. 
Rojfey  Camp,  Horsham,  Sussex 
July  27,  1917 

Deae  C.  Emma  Esses: 

In  case  you  know  not  what  the  above  means, 
you  should  know  that  in  the  British  Army,  for 
sake  of  avoiding  confusion,  certain  letters  are 
changed,  to  wit:  A  becomes  Ack;  B,  Beer;  D, 
Don;  M,  Emma;  P,  Pip;  S,  Esses;  T,  Talk; 
V,  Vick.  Consequently,  when  one  knows  a 
thing  thoroughly,  the  common  expression  is 
that  he  knows  it  from  "Ack  to  Zed."  But  the 
upshot  of  it  all  is  that  my  form  of  salutation 
denotes  "C.  M.  S." 

You  have  heard  of  Charles  Lamb  and  S.  T. 
Coleridge,  mayhap,  what  time  you  pursued  the 


84  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

Anglic  muse  ?  Well,  yesterday  I  saw  them,  in 
effigy;  saw  their  quaint  cloaks,  stocks,  and 
shoes,  but  on  bright  young  British  commoners 
whom  the  Army  has  not  greatly  bothered  yet ; 
and  in  a  pleasant  green  estate  the  Bluecoat 
boys  of  to-day  are  learning — 

"Truth,  and   God's  own   common-sense, 
Which  is  more  than  knowledge !" 

I  remember  Lamb's  essay  on  Christ's  Hos- 
pital in  tlie  chronicles  of  the  gentle  Elia:  I 
often  pictured  to  myself  what  life  must  have 
been  like  in  the  dirty  dear  old  City,  hard  by 
Newgate  and  that  ancient  monolith,  now  so 
changed,  the  Old  Bailey.  What  was  urbs  is 
now  rus  and  rusticus,  and  two  miles  south  of 
Horsham  Town  I  went  last  night  to  see  this 
wonderful  old  school.  Visitors  may  enter  and 
visit  the  buildings  on  an  easily-secured  permit. 
I  was  biking  it,  and  up  the  asphalt  drive  past 
the  end  of  the  Houses,  and  along  the  whole  line, 
that  begin  with  Maine  and  end  with  Barnes — 
named  after  famous  Old  Blues.  The  lads  were 
running  about  on  the  lawns,  and  solemnly 
walking  up  and  down  the  paths.  The  gate  to 
the  school  proper  was  right  ahead,  with  the 
motto  of  the  institution,  'Tear  God;  honour 


THE    QUADRANGLE,     CHRIST  S     HOSTITAL,     HORSHAM 


IN  KIPLING'S  COUNTRY  85 

the  King," — but  for  some  unaccountable  rea- 
son it  was  spelt  "honor."  The  Quad  within 
is  a  handsome  place,  even  with  the  new  red 
brick.  I  carried  on,  out  the  west  gate,  where 
begin  more  Houses  and  Masters'  dAvellings. 

Coming  back  from  the  tour,  I  spied  a  kirtled 
maid  on  the  grass  and  approached,  saying, 
"What  ho!"  or  words  to  that  effect.  She  said 
that  she  thought  I  ccmld  go  through  the  school, 
and  disappeared  within,  emerging  shortly  to 
summon  me  inside  to  wait.  She  said  "The 
Doctor"  would  come,  but  I  suddenly  realised, 
when  the  inner  door  opened,  that  the  kindly- 
looking  oldish  man,  stocky,  grey-bearded,  and 
of  medium  height,  was  the  Head.  We  spoke, 
and  he  offered  to  show  me  about  himself  for 
a  bit,  then  to  find  me  a  guide.  A  fine  old  man 
he  seemed  to  me — simple,  direct,  questioning 
as  to  my  school  and  university.  He  knew  Har- 
vard quite  well.  His  time  was  short,  and  he 
said  something  of  interest  about  Christ's  at 
every  word  as  we  crossed  the  Quad  to  the  Din- 
ing Hall.  Eight  hundred  Blues,  the  full 
school,  eat  there,  in  a  handsome  oak  room  about 
the  size  of  jMemorial  commons — or  less,  rather. 
Verrio's  picture  of  the  granting  of  the  charter 
to  Christ's  dominates  the  opposite  wall — the 


86  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

longest  oil  in  the  world,  said  the  Head.  The 
boys  ate  in  perfect  order,  and  there  was  no 
babel  of  noise,  subsiding  into  a  murmur  at  his 
entrance.  A  "mon."  sits  at  the  head  of  each 
table.  The  lads  wait  on  themselves,  while  the 
masters,  presided  over  by  the  Head,  are  at  a 
transverse  table  at  one  end. 

We  went  out  and  visited  the  Chapel 
(Christ's  Church).  They  have  a  wonderful 
organ,  said  to  have  cost  £2000.  The  walls  are 
being  done  with  a  row  of  strikingly-coloured 
murals  by  the  decorator  of  the  Panama  expo- 
sition. As  yet  unfinished,  they  show  twelve 
stages  in  Christ's  life.  Next  we  went  to  the 
Big  School — a  long  hall,  seats  covering  the 
floor,  with  gilt  inscriptions  from  well-known 
Old  Blues'  works  (Lamb,  Coleridge,  Pepys 
[?],  et  cetera),  and  some  Latin,  with  a  band 
of  names  and  years  of  noted  Blues  below. 
Coleridge's  line  was,  "He  prayeth  best  who 
loveth  .  .  . ;"  another,  "hos  et  dvbitamvs  en- 
TENDERE  FACTis  ?"  Among  the  names  was  Eze- 
kiel  Cheever,  1631-33,  who  taught  Latin  in 
America,  at  Boston  Grammar  School.  With 
Eliot  he  did  the  Bible  into  the  Mohican  dialect. 
The  line  above  is  from  him,  I  think.  Could 
you  find  out  if  he  taught  at  Harvard?    The 


IN  KIPLING'S  COUNTRY  87 

'Head  asked  me  to  write  him  if  I  could  learn 
anything  more  of  him.* 

A  little  later  he  had  to  go,  and  I  was  turned 
over  to  a  bright-looking  lad  "not  yet  gone 
seventeen."  We  wandered  all  about,  looking 
at  the  buildings,  the  "Rugger"  greens,  the 
First-Five  pitch,  the  House  pitches  (cricket, 
you  know) ,  the  Fives  courts,  the  Masters'  ten- 
nis grounds,  and  so  forth.  He  was  a  deputy- 
Grecian,  my  guide,  who  had  a  fine  manner  of 
speech:  the  School  was  "topping";  and  did 
he  like  it  ?— "Rather !"  "It's  a  gorgeous  old 
show!"  He  also  knew  and  hked  Stalkey  & 
Co.  ''Gor^^o^*,  isn't  it?"  "Gorgeous,"  "rath- 
er," "et  cetera/^  "topping,"  and  the  like  fla- 
voured it  well  in  traditional  style.  He  confided 
that  he  hoped  to  make  Grecian  this  term,  and 
stay  on  till  it  was  time  to  "go  up,"  meaning  the 
university.  The  Head  was  a  "well-meaning 
old  blighter,"  he  said:  Upcourt,  B.A.,M.A., 
D.D.,  a  Cambridge  man,  of  Oscar  Wilde's  col- 
lege, whatever  that  was.  We  ended  with  a  look 
into  his  House,  "Coleridge,"  where  the  boys 
were  working  at  arithmetic — small  lads  of  ten 
and  twelve,  with  a  "mon."  at  the  end  of  the 

♦  Although  Ezekiel  Cheever  was  for  seventy  years  a  promi- 
nent teacher  in  New  England,  there  is  no  evidence  that  he 
ever  taught  at  Harvaird,  nor  that  he  co-operated  with  Eliot  on 
the  translation  of  the  Bible. 


88  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

tables.  They  obeyed  him  when  he  reproved 
any  dallying — "yo^  J^Uy  well  keep  your  men 
at  it,"  said  my  guide.  Lamb  was  a  deputy-G. 
only,  and  did  not  go  to  the  university.  More 
luck  to  my  young  friend !  His  choice  was  Pem- 
broke, Cambridge. 

"Rose  and  Crown" 
Burwash  Village,  Sussex 
29  July,  1917 

I  am  writing  this  in  the  chimney-settle  of  a 
nine-feet-broad  brick  chimney.  The  chimney 
has  a  tall  crane  that  cooked  my  dinner,  mine 
host's  good  Sussex  beef-pudding,  and  a  fire 
screen  of  Burwash-forged  iron,  with  a  date 
1761.  In  the  next  room  there  is  one  with  this 
coat  on  it: 


I  have  been  a  wonderful  pilgi'image,  which 
I  will  write  further  on  shortly.  ( One  can  hear 
the  "Boom-bitty,  boom-bitty!"  of  "Hal  o'  the 


IN  KIPLING'S  COUNTRY  89 

Draft"  on  the  inch-iron  plate.*  At  Glazier's 
Forge  it  was  made,  perhaps — the  forge  now 
kept  by  Hobden  in  the  life,  one  of  the  numer- 
ous family  about  here. ) 

The  "Rose  and  Crown"  is  an  old  coaching 
inn.  Over  the  bar  hangs  a  short  brass  "blun- 
derbush"  with  the  word  LONDON  stamped 
on  the  barrel.  ( The  publican  relates  that  once 
a  Gipsy  came  in,  paid,  and,  en  huvant,  spied 
the  round  mouth,  and  after  a  long  puzzle  said : 
"I  have  seen  plenty  queer  things,  but  I'm 
blowed  if  ever  I  saw  a  gramophone  like  this 
'un.")  The  rooms  are  low,  timbered,  in  heavy 
plaster,  with  massive  door- jambs,  and  stairs 
out  o'  line,  bricked  uneven  floors,  brass  warm- 
ing-pans galore;  and  in  the  back  parlour  I 
spied  the  host's  gun,  a  16-bore,  and  shells,  so 
occasionally  he  "looks  along  a  barrel." 

My  bedroom  (it  had  a  big  square  rosewood 
four-poster,  and  a  mattress — after  barrack 
paillasses!)  and  most  of  the  other  rooms  were 
so  low  that  I  had  to  stoop  slightly — true  Sus- 

*  There  are  several  references  in  the  letters  that  show  Wain- 
wright's  wide  reading  in  Kipling's  works.  "Hal  o'  the  Draft," 
"Weland's  Sword"  (page  97),  "Old  Men  at  Pevensey"  (page 
135),  and  "A  Centurion  of  the  Thirtieth"  (page  133),  are  stories 
in  "Puck  of  Pook's  Hill."  "A  Priest  in  Spite  of  Himself," 
referred  to  on  page  96,  comes  in  "Rewards  and  Fairies," 
the  second  volume  of  "Puck"  stories.  "Lalun"  (page  230), 
is  a  character  in  the  Indian  tale,  "On  the  City  Wall."  "The 
Story  of  Ung"  (page  233)  is  a  poem  written  in  1894. 


90  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

sex  style.  With  farmers  like  John  Ridd  of 
Oare,  they  built  the  rooms  in  their  own  way — 
as  I  shall  have  occasion  often  to  point  out — 
"seely  Sussex,  for  everlastin'."  I  could  talk 
on  endlessly  of  this  model  tavern,  but  I  have 
other  things  to  speak  of.  Yet — the  publican 
had  one  leg  and  a  wooden  pin,  on  which  he 
was  very  spry.  To  complete  the  story  he 
should  have  lost  it  at  Sevastopol,  or  Tel-el- 
Kebir,  or  Northwest  Frontier  '83 — but  it  was 
an  ordinary  accident. 

I  entered  Burwash  from  Heathfield,  where 
I  landed  from  the  evening  train  to  The  Wells. 
You  leave  Burwash  Common  at  the  "Oak- 
down  Arms,"  and  make  a  winding  descent  into 
Burwash  Weald.  That  was  the  first  view  of 
the  valley,  green  and  sleepy-looking  in  the 
setting  sun.  On  my  right  the  woods  rose  up  to 
the  bare  summit  of  Brightling,  and  the  obelisk 
standing  out  against  the  skj^line:  past  the 
"Wlieel"  inn  and  up  a  rise,  down  again  and  up 
a  long  hill  into  Burwash  village.  There  is  a 
winding  plaster  and  brick  street,  the  "Bear" 
on  the  right,  a  row  of  shops,  the  butcher's, 
draper's,  carrier's,  baker's,  grocer's,  and  post- 
office.  Elms  line  the  road  on  either  side.  The 
"Rose  and  Crown,  S.  Hemsley"  stands  on  its 
pole,  the  inn  being  back  from  the  road  in  a  lit- 


of  ^'u***^!**^  7)    I 


^  c  r< 


'A 

J_ 


ABooy      OtfZ.   yvjiLC 


BURWASH   AND   VICINITY 


IN  KIPLING'S  COUNTRY  91 

tie  lane.  Beyond,  on  the  right,  is  the  square 
painted  granite  Congregational  Chapel, 
"1857,"  and  two  substantial  newish  brick 
houses,  one  occupied  by  a  retired  Colonel 
Fielding,  a  great  friend  of  R.  K.'s.  The  hill- 
top drops  to  the  left,  the  houses  continuing, 
and  Brightling  Road  turns  down  into  the  val- 
ley on  the  right,  with  St.  Bartholomew's  above 
the  finger-post.  This  is  a  square  hewn-stone 
little  building,  with  a  fine  and  beautiful  tower 
and  chime  of  bells,  in  Perpendicular  and  Late 
Norman  style.  The  God's-acre  surrounds  it, 
with  grey  old  stones  in  the  green,  cut  by  slop- 
ing gravel  paths.  Burwash  ends  a  Httle  be- 
yond, with  a  new  inn,  the  "Admiral  Vernon," 
on  the  left,  and  the  Rectory  on  the  right. 

I  turned  into  the  "Rose  and  Crown,"  and 
a  mellow  Sussex  pint  was  welcome  indeed.  I 
was  shown  my  room,  and  then  went  out.  The 
sun  had  set,  and  it  was  darkening  over  the  val- 
ley and  the  faintly-lit  top  of  Brighthng.  Near- 
ly every  one  in  Sussex  greets  you  on  the  street, 
and  I  soon  found  the  turning,  half  a  mile  back 
on  my  road,  to  Bateman's.  It  winds  down  the 
hillside,  with  green  hedges  at  the  sides,  till  you 
see  a  large  grey  house  with  many  chimneys 
at  the  foot.  There  is  a  high  yew  hedge  around 
it,  a  rough  garden  walL  outbuildings,  and  flow- 


92  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

ers  in  long  plots,  between  which  the  path  leads 
to  the  main  entrance.  Above  there  is  a  long 
window  with  leaded  panes  that  looks  out  on 
the  river  meadows  and  widening  valle}^  east- 
ward. Smaller  windows  extend  to  the  right 
on  all  three  stories,  and  a  jutting  wing  stands 
at  the  right  of  the  central  part.  The  same  is 
duplicated  on  the  left,  with  a  sj^lendid  broad 
study  window.  His  own  study  is  not  here, 
however.  Six  chimney-pots,  tall  brick,  top  the 
huge  central  stone  chimney.  The  roof  is  well 
pitched,  of  slate. 

It  was  nearly  dark  when  I  reached  Bate- 
man's,  and  the  big  lower  window  was  brightly 
lighted,  and  uncurtained.  At  the  risk  of  rude- 
ness I  stopped  and  looked  in.  The  room  was 
lit  by  electrics  in  the  ceiling.  A  high  dark 
wainscoting,  with  buff  plaster  above,  ran 
around  the  room ;  a  broad  fireplace  was  let  in- 
to the  left-hand  wall,  and  small  pictures  stood 
on  the  chimney-piece,  and  hung  irregularly  on 
the  walls.  A  big  table  was  in  the  middle,  at 
which  a  middle-aged  woman  sat,  sewing  or 
reading,  her  back  to  me.  Presently  a  man 
in  evening  clothes  came  into  the  light,  rather 
short  in  stature,  his  large  dark  head  bald  on 
the  top.  He  was  speaking.  He  turned,  show- 
ing heavy  eyebrows,  a  prominent  nose,  with 


IN  KIPLING'S  COUNTRY  93 

heavy  glasses  at  his  eyes,  and  a  thick  brown 
moustache.  He  came  toward  the  window,  and 
then  went  out  of  view  to  the  right.  I  went  on 
shortly  after.  The  man  and  woman  were  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Kipling. 

Back  in  the  tap -room  at  the  "Rose  and 
Crown"  (I  went  by  the  lower  road,  and  up 
past  the  Church) ,  the  innkeeper  and  I  sat  down 
to  two  pewter  tankards  and  a  talk.  He  was 
Sussex  born  and  bred,  but  with  an  Essex  moth- 
er: his  father  in  the  ''public"  line,  Lewes  way. 
He  came  to  his  inn  in  the  same  year  that  the 
Kiplings  came  from  Rothingdean,  whence  they 
were  driven  by  the  Brighton  promenade  trot- 
ters to  Burne-Jones's  villa  there.  He  was  glad 
to  tell  me  about  R.  K.  and  the  family. 

"JNIany's  the  time  that  Mas'  Kipling  ad- 
dressed the  Conservative  meetin'  for  Burrish 
up  in  the  Big  Room.  I  was  mostly  here  in  the 
bar,  but  I  mind  'im  well.  He'd  seem  to  outdo 
himself  to  be  pleasant,  an'  'twan't  five  minutes 
when  he'd  have  'em  all  laughin'.  I  mind  he 
said  once:  'I  don't  want  to  go  to  Hell  next 
week,  nor  yet  to  the  Devil  the  week  after  that.' 
[?  —  I'd  like  to  have  heard  it!  A.A.S.]  He 
could  hold  'em  easy  enough,  once  he  got  talkin', 
and  give  you  'Good  mornin' '  on  the  street  as 
pleasant  as  you  please.    And  Jack  was  a  fine 


94  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

straight  lad.  He  and  Elsie  used  to  go  up  to 
the  village,  and  to  the  shops,  the  two  always 
together,  and  courteous  little  gentlefolk  they 
were;  an'  Elsie's  grown  to  be  a  fine  homely 
English  girl,  scarce  turned  nineteen,  I  think, 
taking  after  her  father;  but  her  nose  is  her 
mother's.  All  we  Burrishers  like  her,  trapes- 
in'  about  in  her  little  motor,  and  Jack  on  his 
motor-bike ;  like  to  break  his  neck,  he  was,  an' 
always  going  it  an'  fearless.  .  .  . 

"Burrish  always  had  the  name  o'  bein'  the 
roughest  town  in  Sussex.  Forty  year  gone 
they'd  crack  your  head  in  a  week  hereabouts, 
if  you  were  a  stranger  and  they  had  suspicions. 
But  Sussex  folk  have  Sussex  ways,  and  if  they 
know  you  they  like  you,  and  every  one  has 
open  house  to  every  one  else." 

He  talked  of  the  Hobdens. 

"I've  seen  the  four  brothers,  big  strappin' 
men  they  are,  sit  there  on  the  settle  by  you  an' 
tellin'  stories.  David  was  the  old  'un,  that 
lives  at  Glazier's  Forge  by  Willingford. 

"The  old  folk  be  precious  queer  people — like 

old  Jim .     He's  eighty  now,  an'  time  o' 

Heffle  Fair,  'Cuckoo  Fair,'  we  call  it  here- 
abouts, he  always  used  to  come  by  on  the  road, 
walkin'  the  seven  mile  over  to  Heffle.  He  al- 
ways walked,  till  two  year  ago  he  says  to  me, 


IN  KIPLING'S  COUNTRY  95 

*  'Ems'ey,  I've  walked  to  Heffle  Cuckoo  Fair 
for  sixty-two  year  runnin',  but  now  age  she 
must  stop  it — can  I  ride  in  the  cart  wi'  you?' 
When  fair  was  over,  April  13  it  is,  he  says, 
*I'II  be  comin'  nex'  year  along  wi'  you,  'Em- 
s'ey.'  'Right,'  I  said,  but  come  next  year  I  was 
waitin'  with  the  cart  an'  the  brown  cob  pony 
half  an  hour ;  an'  I  saw  old  Jim  hobblin'  down 
the  road.  '  'Ems'ey,'  he  says,  'I've  walked  to 
Cuckoo  Fair  three  an'  sixty  year,  an' — an'  I've 
come  to  think  only  trampers  and  good-for- 
nowts  go  to  fairs,  so  I'll  stop  at  home,'  an' 
stop  he  did!" 

And  so  we  talked  till  after  midnight:  how 
young  Lord  Dacre  "fetched  up  at  Tyburn"  for 
taking  Lord  Pelham's  deer  on  Brightling  yon- 
der; how  Pelham  gave  the  chime  to  St.  Bar- 
tholomew's; how  the  farmers  got  poor,  and 
well-to-do  families  became  farm-hands  and 
basket-makers,  through  the  custom  of  dividing 
the  little  property  equally,  among  the  several 
sons,  thus  impoverishing  all — no  Second  Son 
pittance  is  found  here.  He  had  read  the  Bar- 
rack Room  Ballads,  and  appreciated  them — 
the  songs  of  the  public  house,  which  he  knew 
for  true  things.  Kipling's  fanciful  books  were 
regarded  as  "no-sense  stuff"  in  the  neighbour- 
hood— but  he  wanted  to  see  Mas'  Hobden, 


96  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

whom  he  recognised  for  old  David !  David  did 
not  work  for  JMr.  Kipling,  though.  It  was 
another,  or  else  a  different  man  under  that 
name.  I  saw  the  Hobdens  and  Cruttendens 
and  Follens  in  the  bar  that  evening — for  all  the 
world  like  the  pictures  in  "Puck."  "Saxon  and 
ISTorman  and  Dane  are  they."  He  spoke  of 
tracing  the  Norman  blood,  as  he  could  by  the 
nose  and  broad  face  and  eyes,  among  the  coun- 
try folk.  I  could  see  it  too.  These  generations 
intermarried,  and,  in  the  more  remote  parts, 
have  kept  distinct  indications  of  the  older  days. 
I  retired  to  my  four-poster  at  one. 

The  next  morning  I  ate  my  host's  ham  and 
eggs  with  them  in  their  dining  room.  Then  to 
St.  Bartholomew's,  with  the  tower  and  comer 
which  I  associate  now  with  a  certain  evening, 
nearly  two  years  ago,  when,  at  Professor  Zug's, 
you  read  "A  Priest  in  Spite  of  Himself."  I've 
always  remembered  it,  my  friend — "Yess, 
Yess!" — and  the  song  of  Eddi  at  the  end.  St. 
Wilfrid  came  to  St.  Stephen's,  Lympne,  by 
Portus  Lemanis,  too — where  also  I  have  been. 

It  was  overcast,  and  raining  quite  hard,  as 
I  hiked,  under  a  light  overcoat,  to  Burwash 
Weald.  Down  into  the  valley  the  road  winds 
again,  and  a  young  thunder  shower  was  in  ac- 
tion as   I  reached  the  foot  at  Willingford 


IN  KIPLING'S  COUNTRY  97 

Bridge,  a  little  stone  structure  among  the 
meadow  alders.  On  the  other  side  are  two 
farms.  Weland  forged  the  Sword  here,  and 
here  Puck  helped  him.  A  trout  jumped  in  the 
pool  below,  where  Hugh  hunted  them  before 
Hastings.  Up  the  hill,  with  Bog  Wood  and 
Pook's  Hill  (as  it  is  called)  on  the  left.  *'A 
shocking  bad  road  it  was,"  but  it's  rather  better 
now,  as  I  walked  my  wheel  up.  The  people  in 
the  farmhouse  gave  me  a  glass  of  milk,  and 
would  take  nothing  for  it,  quite  in  the  old  Old 
Country  style.  Halfway  up  you  have  a  fine 
view  over  the  meadows  and  alders,  with  Hob- 
den's  Forge  of  the  book  half  the  distance  to 
Bateman's.  The  River  Dudwell  is  the  brook 
of  the  tales,  and  in  these  meadows  Dan  and 
Una  acted  "Midsummer  Night's  Dream,"  and 
met  Puck,  Sir  Richard,  and  others. 

I  footed  it  up  to  Brightling  obelisk.  It  had 
cleared,  but  it  was  still  misty — and  some  Im- 
perials were  making  observations.  You  could 
see  to  Battle,  Dallington,  and  the  near  side 
of  the  levels  by  "  'Urstmonsoo,"  as  my  publi- 
can called  it.  Beyond  the  obelisk  is  Bright- 
ling  village  and  church,  Lord  Pelham's 
demesne,  and  the  site  of  the  monastery.  I 
walked  back  to  my  bicycle,  and  off  into  Far 
Wood  for  Bateman's.    There  was  a  track  that 


98  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

forked  and  wound  along,  and  soon  I  was  in  the 
wonderfully  beautiful  wood  on  Pook's  Hill. 
I  took  the  wrong  turn  twice,  and  finally  got 
on  the  downhill  path.  From  here  was  "where 
they  hauled  the  keels."  Volaterrae  is  the  edge 
of  the  woods  near  this  point.  So  out  of  the 
dear  ferny  oak  wood  I  went,  down  the  bare 
hillside  of  Pook's  Hill  to  the  meadow  road  by 
the  brook.    There  is  a  farm,  and  beyond  it — 

".  .  .  .  our  little  mill  that  clacks 
So  busy  by  the  brook," 

where  the  children  met  Hal  o'  the  Draft.  The 
road  (now)  runs  to  the  lower  gate  by  the 
bridge.  Immediately  at  the  left  the  children's 
garden  begins.  On  past  the  house  I  went,  and 
up  the  hill  to  the  village  again. 

I  had  a  delightful  time  everywhere:  it  all 
so  came  up  to  expectations.  A  place  where 
two  children  of  this  English  race,  with  such 
father,  who  could  write  and  tell  these  stories 
for  them,  might  well  be  in  their  own  Arcady. 
But  they  grew  up,  and  another  order  of  things 
came  to  their  England:  and  Dan  and  Una,  al- 
most man  and  woman  now,  answered.  So 
John  ("Jack,"  as  the  villagers  always  called 
him)  and  Elsie  met  it  well,  and  stood  for  their 
country,  as  their  father  had  told  only  too  well. 


IN  KIPLING'S  COUNTRY  99 

"Land  of  our  Birth,  we  pledge  to  thee 
Our  love  and  toil  in  the  years  to  be: 

That  we  may  bring,  if  need  arise, 
No  maimed  or  worthless  sacrifice." 

And  Dan — Second-Lieutenant  John  Kipling 
— is  "missing"  since  Loos. 

I  am  sending  in  this  letter  what  I  hope  you 
will  keep  steadfastly,  not  for  the  sake  of  him 
who  sends  them,  but  in  some  tribute  to  this 
boy  and  girl,  their  beautiful  childhood,  and  the 
sacrifice  of  one  of  them:  an  oak,  an  ash,  and 
a  thorn  leaf,  which  I  gathered  on  Pook's  Hill, 
here  in  this  England.  And  may  they  magic 
you,  my  friend,  into  never  forgetting  Dan, 
whom  we  both  in  a  measure  loved,  who  has  now 
gone  on.  Ah,  God,  the  pity  of  it — his  father 
and  mother  and  sister  here — and  he  is  not. 
And  yet  will  Flanders  earth  lie  lightly  on  him, 
for  in  his  case  it  was  so  true  that  diilce  et  de- 
corum est,  pro  Patria  mori! 

I  returned  to  Hastings  by  way  of  Etching- 
ham,  Robertsbridge,  John's  Cross,  Battle,  and 
Hollington.  I  went  into  Battle  Abbey  (it 
was  raining  quite  hard  from  Mountfield  and 
Battle  Wood  Hill),  across  the  green  in  front 
of  the  Library,  to  the  stone  wall  that  overlooks 


100  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

the  narrow  oak-wooded  valley  and  brook. 
This  was  the  Saxon  line — the  Duke  was  over 
yonder,  charging  down  on  the  British  bowmen. 
It  was  very  still  and  quiet  in  the  falling  rain. 

"See  you  our  stilly  woods  of  oak, 
And  the  dread  ditch  beside? 
O  that  was  where  the  Saxons  broke 
On  the  day  that  Harold  died !" 

I  reached  Hastings  at  5 :30,  missed  my  train, 
and  returned  to  Horsham  this  morning — hap- 
pier by  far,  yet  sadder  indeed.    Write  on! 
Yours, 

Arthur  A.  Stanley. 
"Ack  Ack  Esses,  343939." 


CHAPTER  V 

WORKING  WITH  THE  BIG  GUNS 

Life  at  Roffey  Camp — Bairnsfather's  Cartoons — On 
Fatigues — Democracy  as  a  Theory — The  British 
Artillery— The  Cavalry— The  Infantry — Gun  Drill 
and  Routine— "Cheero !"— The  "Y" 

6th  Siege  Section 
10th  Can.  Siege  Bty. 
Roffey  Camp,  Horsham,  Sussex 
SI  July,  1917 

Deak  Ed: 

.  .  .  We  have  every  Saturday  from  12  to 
10  p.m.,  and  Sunday  the  same.  We  can  move 
around  anywhere,  with  some  faint  caution  in 
big  towns,  on  foot  or  bicycle.  One  may  go 
certain  distances  by  train.  For  twenty-mile 
journeys  or  more,  one  must  have  a  pass,  unless 
one  leaves  from  and  alights  at  small  stations, 
where  there  are  no  M.P.'s  (Military  Police). 
If  one  is  careful  he  may  go  practically  any- 
where that  his  purse  will  take  him.  London  is 
rather  risky,  though.     On  week-end  passes 

101 


102  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

(Saturday  noon  to  Monday  reveille)  one  may 
get  a  railway  soldier's  warrant,  securing  a 
ticket  to  any  place  at  less  than  half-fare,  third- 
class,  of  course.  On  your  week's  leave,  which 
every  soldier  receives  before  going  to  France, 
you  may  go  anywhere  in  the  British  Isles,  free 
of  charge. 

Of  course  we  are  free  every  evening  from 
6:15  to  10,  and  one  can  cycle  quite  a  distance 
in  that  time.  I  have  been  around  Kent  and  a 
good  bit  of  Sussex  on  bikes.  I've  bought  one 
depuis  une  semaine  for  <£3.  I  can  sell  it  back 
at  no  great  loss,  and  also  rent  it  out  for  two 
shillings  a  day.  .  .  . 

We  came  here  July  14.  Since  then  we  have 
been  well  occupied  at  learning  the  how  and 
wherefore  of  siege  gunnery  in  the  British 
Army.  Our  gun  is  the  8-inch  howitzer,  Mark 
VI,  which  was  originated  in  this  war  for  the 
purpose  of  resisting  Fritz.  It  is  a  big  gun, 
and  rather  hard  work,  but  of  course  we  fire 
more  seldom  than  the  smaller  fry.  We  shall 
be  here  about  four  weeks  more,  then  proceed 
to  Lydd,  Romney  Marsh,  Kent,  for  firing 
practice.  We  shall  be  there  from  two  to  six 
weeks,  depending  on  our  ability,  for  we  must 
accomplish  fourteen  "shoots"  with  a  certain 
degree  of  success.     A  "shoot"  is  what  you 


WORKING  WITH  THE  BIG  GUNS        103 

might  imagine,  a  spell  of  firing  varj^ng  from 
one  hundred  to  two  hundred  rounds  under 
varying  conditions — some  short  range,  some 
long  range,  some  bombardment,  some  barrage 
work,  some  aeroplane  work,  where  we  receive 
orders  from  a  battleplane.  After  Lydd  we  go 
to  Bristol,  probably,  for  our  guns,  and  embark 
from  a  Channel  port  thereafter — when,  it  is 
uncertain.  We  do  not  expect  to  get  over  till 
November,  which  means  a  rainy  Picardy  win- 
ter, but  a  radiant  northern  spring!  .  .  . 

Yours, 

Aet. 

6tk  Siege  Section 
10th  Can.  Siege  Bty.,  C.G.A. 
Roffey  Camp,  Horsham^  Sussex 
Jf.  August,  1917 

Dear  Mr.  Merrill: 

Yours  dated  July  17  came  in  to-day — rather 
a  quick  trip,  only  eighteen  days. 

I'm  glad  Gyles  could  get  down  to  see  you 
all — but  of  course  they  would  allow  leave  when 
the  term  of  instruction  is  so  long.  Does  he  like 
it?  I  hope  their  food  is  a  bit  more  varied  than 
when  I  was  there.  Our  food  here  is  really  of 
better  variety  and  quality  than  that  which  we 
had  at  Plattsburg.  The  quantity  here  occa- 
sionally might  be  bettered,  but  it  is  very  good 


104  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

on  the  whole,  and  excellent  considering  the 
difficulties  here  in  war-time.  This  is  the  anni- 
versary of  the  day  of  Britain's  entering — three 
years  ago.  And  Germany  is  not  beaten  yet. 
But  the  third  anniversary  of  der  Tag  comes 
with  a  much  dimmer  outlook  for  the  Boche, 
thank  God. 

Gyles  had  better  join  the  siege  guns,  unless 
he  wants  to  stick  with  the  horses.  It's  vastly 
better  in  the  Siege,  and  you  do  more  good,  I 
think,  though  it's  harder  work,  manually.  .  .  . 

My  bicycle  is  a  good  earner,  and  has  netted 
me  seven  shillings  the  past  week,  on  the  days 
I  did  not  need  it.  It  was  a  topping  invest- 
ment, you  know,  for  it  offers  such  ease  in  get- 
ting about,  and  if  you  want  to  go  anywhere, 
on  a  bit  of  a  trip,  it  saves  fares,  and  often  you 
cannot  get  a  railway  pass,  so  it  is  doubly  use- 
ful. 

Did  I  tell  you  about  my  trip  to  Rye?  I  got 
some  souvenirs  of  Canterbury  in  my  three 
trips,  and  a  small  white  stone  cross  on  a  pedes- 
tal, made  from  Cathedral  material,  at  the  curio 
shop  within  the  Precincts.  Unfortunately  the 
pedestal  broke  off  in  my  bag.  I  am  sending 
some  cards  I  have  picked  up.  I  sent  a  mount- 
ed miniature  of  the  painting  of  Chaucer's  Pil- 
grims.   I  hope  it  came  safely. 


WORKING  WITH  THE  BIG  GUNS        105 

A  week  ago  I  secured  a  week-end  pass,  and 
took  train  for  Hastings  at  soldier's-warrant 
rate,  4s.  3d.  for  the  return  ticket,  third  class. 
You  know  fares  in  England  are  up  50%,  and 
in  certain  cases  higher,  since  the  war.  I  took 
my  cycle  along  in  the  guard's  van.  .  .  . 

I'd  like  very  much  to  have  you  read  "Puck 
of  Pook's  Hill,"  or  "Rewards  and  Fairies,"  or 
both,  by  JNIr.  Kipling.  They  are  fine  short 
stories,  with  incidental  poems,  of  his  Sussex, 
that  he  loves  so  well,  put  in  the  form  of  tales 
told  two  children,  Dan  and  Una,  living  in  Sus- 
sex, who,  ciceroned  by  Puck,  alias  Robin 
Goodfellow,  meet  various  people  who  in  the 
past  have  lived  their  lives,  and  dealt  with  the 
problems  of  their  day,  in  Sussex  here,  or  else- 
where in  England — all  making  toward  a  bet- 
ter knowledge  and  higher  ideal  for  the  children 
in  their  life  for  England.  They  are  fascinat- 
ing things.  One  narrator  is  a  Knight  of  the 
Conquest;  another  a  Roman  Centurion;  a 
third  a  prehistoric  Jutish  god,  turned  man;  a 
fourth  Queen  Bess;  a  fifth  an  early  priest,  St. 
Wilfrid;  and  so  on. 

The  children  have  a  poem — 

**Land  of  our  Birth,  we  pledge  to  thee 
Our  love  and  toil  in  the  years  to  be." 


106  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

Una  is  Elsie  Kipling,  Dan  is  Second-Lieu- 
tenant John  Kipling,  missing  since  Loos,  1916. 
I  think  you  would  like  them. 

"Trackway  and  Camp  and  City  lost, 
Salt  Marsh  where  now  is  corn; 
Old  Wars,  old  Peace,  old  Arts  that  cease, 
And  so  was  England  born!" 

I'm  well,  and  all  is  O.K.     Best  wishes  to 
everyone.    I'll  write  again  soon. 
Yours, 

A.  A.  S. 

Wainwright  keenly  appreciated  Bairnsfath- 
ter's  cartoons,  known  as  the  Bystander's  "Frag- 
ments from  France."  The  first  one  he  sent, 
on  the  sixteenth  of  July,  was  "The  Tactless 
Teuton :  a  member  of  the  Gravediggers'  Corps 
joking  with  a  private  in  the  Orphans'  Bat- 
talion, prior  to  a  frontal  attack."  On  August 
8  he  sent  his  father  "The  Better  'Ole,"  with  a 
postscript,  "Is  the  rifle  (short  Lee-Enfield) 
like  the  on©  you  speak  of?  We  use  the  same 
rifle."  The  same  day  he  sent  his  brother 
"There  goes  our  blinkin'  parapet  again."  On 
this  card  he  had  written,  "Learn  and  be  wise!" 


% 


# 


/ 


A   BAiRNSFATHER   POST   CARD — "Keeping   His   Hand   In" 

Private   Smith,  the   company  bomber,  formerly  "Shino,"   the  popular  juggler,   fre- 
quently  causes  considerable   anxiety   to   his  platoon. 

until    the    tcrwission    of    Messrs.    G.    P.    Putnam's    Sons) 


WORKING  WITH  THE  BIG  GUNS        107 
[Postcard  to  C.  M.  S.] 

Roffey,  Horsham 
8  Aug.,  1917 

The  spirit  here  is  like  that  of  the  famous 
trench  ditty : 

"The  bells  o'  'Ell  go  ting-a-ling-a-ling 
For  you  but  not  for  me : 
For  me  the  angels  sing-a-ling-a-ling, 

And  I  their  glory  see. 
O  Death,  where  is  thy  sting-a-ling-a-ling, 

O  Grave,  thy  victoree? 
The  bells  o'  'Ell  go  ting-a-ling-a-ling 
For  you  but  not  for  me  1" 

Yours, 

A.  A.  S. 

Rofey  Camp,  Horsham,  Sussex 
August  12,  1917 

Deae  Louise: 

.  .  .  It's  fine  about  Wilder.  I  suppose  if 
I  were  on  your  side  the  pond  now  I  would  be 
in  the  R.O.T.C.  with  Syd  and  your  brother 
and  the  rest — or  perhaps  'twould  be  a  spell 
at  Plattsburg  again!  Syd  writes  me  a  lot  of 
the  R.OeT.C,  and  it  sounds  great.  All  my 
friends  are  in  something  or  other.  I  hope  they 
will  all  go  for  the  essentials,  and  not  funk  out 
in  some  "Third  Auxiliary  Substitute  Reserve" 


108  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

unit.  Speed  and  real  service  are  the  factors 
now  sought  for  from  America;  and  when  you 
see  England  and  France  and  what  they  have 
done,  you  have  to  realise  that  America's  help 
will  count  immensely,  and  that  she  cannot  do 
too  much.  So  that  is  why  the  Regular  Armj-, 
the  New  Army,  and  the  first-line  Navy  are 
what  your  recruits  are  most  needed  for.  The 
Hun  is  pretty  strong  yet — only  a  fool  could 
doubt  that.  .  .  . 

As  ever, 
Yours, 
A.  A.  Stanley. 

6th  Siege  Section 
loth  Can.  Siege  Bty.,  C.G.A. 
Roffey  Camp,  Horsham,  Sussex 
14.  August,  1917 

Dear  S yd  : 

To-day  have  I  travailed  long  at  menial 
lalbour — very  sad,  not?  "Gunners'  Mess"  in- 
cludes many  woes.  Among  them  are — oiling 
stoves,  sweeping  floors,  washing  floors,  wash- 
ing tables,  washing  dishes,  washing  pans,  fir- 
ing stoves,  drawing  fires,  peeling  potatoes, 
cleaning  stoves,  filling  boilers,  washing  win- 
dows, etceterarum.  But  enough.  This  sad 
fatigue  comes  but  rarely.  With  luck  I  shall 
not  have  it  again  here. 


WORKING  WITH  THE  BIG  GUNS        109 

But  a  word  on  fatigues.  We  have  many — 
Main  Guard,  Inlying  Picquet,  Town  Piequet, 
Fire  Picquet,  Gunners'  Mess,  Sergeants' 
Mess,  Officers'  Mess,  Hut  Orderlies,  Quarter- 
master's Squad,  et  at.  They  have  varied  duties 
and  devoirs.  They  are  mostly  unpleasant,  of 
course.  A  soldier  will  do  with  fair  grace  any- 
thing that  comes  on  "parade" — that  is  re- 
garded as  part  of  his  work;  but  extras,  wom- 
en's jobs  and  that  sort  of  thing  are  received 
with  defiant  hostility.  There  is  nothing  like 
fatigues  for  giving  you  the  "man's  point  of 
view."  The  tales  of  woe,  adventures,  com- 
plaints, grousing,  schemes,  religion,  politics, 
and  so  on  that  are  disbursed  mutually  on  Main 
Guard,  mess  fatigues  and  the  rest  are  amusing, 
sickening,  depressing,  disillusioning  (if  man 
still  holds  illusions  about  mankind)  in  the  nth 
degree.  It  is  very  true  indeed  that  one  half 
the  world  does  not  know  how  the  other  half 
lives. 

Plattsburg,  when  I  thought  I  was  learning 
a  bit  of  life,  was  a  kindergarten  course  only. 
I  did  not  realise  fully  enough  that  the  chaps 
there  were  largely  of  my  own  class.  In  the 
Canadian  Forces,  for  example,  unless  you 
make  up  your  mind  to  mix  (which  means  go- 
ing their  ways  and  living  their  life  only  too 


no  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

much),  you  are  obliged  to  keep  pretty  well  to 
yourself  and  certain  few  who  drift  toward 
you,  and  you  toward  them,  by  force  of  like 
aims  and  ideals.  "Democracy"  as  a  theory  is 
all  very  well,  but  until  we  reach  a  Utopia  of 
educated,  sober-lived  lower  classes  I  cannot 
(for  one)  believe  in  it  in  entiretij,  or  even  in  a 
large  measure.  Not  yet.  I  hold  to  a  class 
system  of  ability  and  ideals.  If  a  man  of  low 
origin  shows  sterling  qualities,  well  and  good; 
but  if  he  is  rotten  and  narrow-visioned  and 
prejudiced  toward  the  great  things  of  life,  I 
cannot  meet  him  as  equal  and  brother.  Per- 
haps (and  very  likely)  he  wouldn't  care  to 
meet  me,  or  to  have  me  condescend  to  him. 
Well,  I'll  ring  off.  Education,  though,  is  the 
possible  salvation  for  democracy.  People  in 
power  are  recognising  this  more  and  more  here 
in  England,  where  war-democracy  is  gaining, 
and  a  more  wide  democracy  for  peace  days  is 
possible.  Free  education  to  the  age  of  eighteen 
is  coming.  It  seems  peculiar  that  it  wasn't 
here  before,  as  it  was  in  the  States,  but  such 
is  the  case.  Rudyard  Kipling  had  only  a  pub- 
lic-school education  (United  Services  College 
—"Westward  Ho!") 

But  enough:  is  this  Armageddon  bringing 
you  to  a  "democratic"  viewpoint? — for  I  do 


WORKING  WITH  THE  BIG  GUNS        111 

not  think  any  of  us — Ed,  Lorry,  Foxie — had 
it  before.  Have  you  read  "The  Three  Things" 
of  Mary  Shipman  Andrews  ?  It  is  a  war  short 
story,  a  fine  thing,  by  the  way,  wherein  a  young 
"patrician"  comes  to  democracy,  class  frater- 
nisation and  faith  in  the  Deity — in  Flanders. 
Perhaps  it  will  come  to  me  there.  Eh  bien^ 
c'est  assez! 

For  the  best  view  of  the  War  let  me  recom- 
mend to  you,  above  all,  Punch.  It  is  great:  I 
read  it  every  day,  nearly.  The  Sphere,  Illus- 
trated News,  Graphic,  and  Tatler  are  also 
good ;  aussi  the  Sketch.  But  Punch  gets  to  the 
heart  of  things  superbly.  The  entire  staff  of 
it  should  receive  D.S.O.'s,  or  at  least  the  Or- 
der of  the  British  Empire,  which  Mr.  Kipling 
is  slated  for  very  soon,  he  having  refused  an 
old  one  for  many  years,  and  the  O.B.E.  (I 
think  'tis  written)  was  established  only  two 
months  ago.  .  .  . 

Best  wishes  to  your  people  and  everyone. 

Yours, 

Art. 


112  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

6th  Siege  Section. 
10th  Can.  Siege  Bty.,  C.G.A. 
Roffey  Camp,  Horsham^  Sussex 
15  August,  1917 

Dear  Gyles: 

...  I  am  working  for  the  big  guns — 8-inch 
howitzers,  you  know,  which  I  suppose  you 
haven't  yet  in  the  U.  S.  It's  husky  business, 
rather, — but  it  is  the  branch  of  the  Service 
that  does  the  essentials  out  West.  You  will 
do  well  to  get  into  it.  How  goes  your  end 
of  things? 

Sussex  and  all  England  are  great,  my  son. 
You  probably  did  not  see  enough  of  it  when 
you  were  here  to  appreciate  it.  I'm  having  a 
great  time  also — none  better. 

We  move  from  here  next  month,  and  prob- 
ably go  overseas  about  November.    But  any 
letter  to  me  here  will  follow  on.  .  .  . 
Yours  as  ever, 
343939  Stanley,  Gunner,  A.  A. 

6th  Siege  Section 
10th  Can.  Siege  Bty.,  C.G.A. 
Roffey  Camp,  Horsham,  Sussex 
17  August,  1917 

Dear  Gyles: 

I  have  written  you  not  long  since,  but  to-day 
your  letter  of  22  July  arrived — ^most  interest- 


WORKING  WITH  THE  BIG  GUNS        113 

ing,  too.  There  is  much  to  speak  of  regarding 
it. 

The  big  guns,  to  begin  with,  are  the  only 
thing,  you  know.  They  do  the  work.  The  3- 
iQch  you  speak  of  would  equal  approximately 
the  British  12-pounder,  I  suppose,  which  is  no 
longer  used  at  the  Front.  You  will  have  to 
progress  a  bit,  young  man.  We  work  on  6- 
inch,  30  hundredweight,  now.  We  shall  go 
over  as  8-inch  or  9.2's  probably. 

In  the  Artillery  of  the  British  service  there 
Are  three  grades — Field,  Heavy,  and  Garri- 
son, or  Siege.  The  Field  uses  12-pounders 
(obsolete),  15-pounders,  and  18-pounders. 
The  latter  is  a  wonderful  gun,  used  everywhere 
along  the  line,  about  equal  to  the  famous 
French  "75."  The  15-pounder  is  obsolescent. 
The  Heavies  (fine  guns,  you  know,)  are  the 
60-pounders  (5-inch  bore,  huge  shell  and  car- 
tridge) mostly,  and  the  4.5  howitzers.  The  5- 
inch  low-power  howitzer  of  Boer  days  has  gone. 
The  Siege  comprise  6-inch  and  8-inch  howitz- 
ers, 9.2  gun,  10-inch,  12-inch,  15-inch,  18- 
inch.  These  last  are  massive  naval  guns  that 
the  Army  does  nothing  with.  The  6-inch  how- 
itzer has  a  100-pound  shell. 

Our  siege  batteries  are  divided  into  six  sub- 
sections, one  gun  to  each  sub.,  "A"  to  "F." 


114,  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

The  old  batteries  had  four  guns  and  four  subs. 
The  field  guns  are  in  four  and  six-gun  bat- 
teries also,  very  few  four-gun  units  being  left. 
The  Field  (know  that  I  know  whereof  I  speak, 
having  served  nearly  eight  months  in  it)  has 
a  battery  of  136  men  and  six  officers  (a  four- 
gun  battery),  comprising  major,  captain,  and 
four  subalterns.  The  Siege  is  the  same.  The 
Field  is  horsed  with  three  teams  to  a  vehicle — 
the  gun  and  limber,  first-line  wagon,  second- 
line  wagon.  The  Field  gets  its  ammunition 
from  the  D.A.C.  (divisional  ammunition  col- 
umn). The  Heavies  are  drawn  by  motor  lor- 
ries— you  call  them  "trucks"  in  the  United 
States — in  which  the  men  ride.  The  Siege  is 
drawn  by  "caterpillars,"  tractors  built  on  the 
"tank"  principle.  We  ride  on  the  guns  and 
caterpillars. 

You  did  well  to  join  the  Field  though.  It 
seems  very  queer  to  write  merely  "F.A."  It 
should  be  "U.S.F.A.,"  like  the  British  style, 
"R.F.A.,  C.F.A.,  A.F.A.,  I.F.A.,  iV.Z.F.A.," 
standing  for  Royal,  Canadian,  Australian, 
Indian,  and  New  Zealand — Anzac.  The 
cream  of  it  is  the  R.F.A.,  of  course — the 
"Right  of  the  British  Line,"  the  best  army 
corps  under  heaven,  barring  the  Coldstream 
and  Grenadier  Guards. 


WORKING  WITH  THE  BIG  GUNS        115 

The  cavalry  is  coming  in  occasionally  in 
Flanders,  you  know,  in  the  new  open  fighting. 
Generally  it  waits  in  reserve,  or  acts  on  neces- 
sity as  infantry,  but  in  the  early  war  they 
fought — the  6th  Lancers  at  Messines,  and  all 
that.  In  the  British  Army  they  are  called, 
you  know,  Lancers,  Hussars,  Dragoons,  and 
Horse.  So  the  9th  Lancers  are  the  "Death  or 
Glory  Boys,"  having  for  a  crest  [sketch]. 
They've  earned  it,  too.  The  pick  of  the  cav- 
alry are  the  Household  Brigade,  of  the  King's 
bodyguard  originally,  the  King's  Life  Guards, 
1st  to  4th. 

The  pick  of  the  Infantrj^  are  the  Foot 
Guards — Coldstream,  Grenadier,  Scotch, 
Irish,  and  Welsh  (1915).  The  Coldstream 
dates  from  1620  as  a  regular  organisation;  the 
Grenadiers  from  about  1700,  but  they  were 
called  "Gentlemen  of  the  King's  Foot 
Guards"  till  1815,  when,  at  Waterloo,  they 
vanquished  Napoleon's  Imperial  Old  Guard, 
and  earned  the  title  of  "Grenadiers."  The 
Prussian  Guards,  the  best  German  troops, 
date  from  Bony's  time  also,  but  they've  been 
sadly  knocked  about  in  this  thing.  The  Cold- 
stream Guards,  alone  almost,  held  the  First 
Ypres  battle,  and  were  nearly  decimated  in 
doing  it.     The  rest  of  "British  Infantree"  is 


116  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

composed  of  the  Line  regiments — "the  Thin 
Red  Line  of  heroes"  at  Waterloo — the  1st  to 
the  109th  Foot,  beginning  with  the  senior  Brit- 
ish corps,  the  Royal  Scots,  1600,  and  ending 
with  the  Leinster  Fusileers,  or  the  Prince  of 
Wales'  Royal  Canadian  Regiment,  raised 
from  the  Canadian  veterans  of  the  Boer  war, 
1900,  I  think. 

Here  you  have  quite  a  bit  about  the  British 
Army,  but  there  is  a  lot  more.  It's  a  very  old 
organisation,  and  a  fine  one.  You  may  see 
that  the  States  have  a  lot  to  learn  in  warfare 
when  they  come  over.  My  father  and  an  old 
Dartmouth  instructor  write  me  that  a  re- 
turned Canadian  captain  is  drilling  the  Dart- 
mouth Battalion.  The  Harvard  O.T.C., 
where  I  have  several  friends,  is  under  wound- 
ed French  officers.  You  need  first-hand  in- 
formation in  this  business. 

When  I  was  in  Canada,  at  Kingston,  I 
drove  mostly,  wheel  driver.  Do  you  wear  a 
leg-iron,  for  protection,  on  your  ofF-foot?  The 
Field  wears  spurs  always,  in  camp,  on  guard, 
mounted, — gunners  too, — and  when  walking 
out.  I  have  five  pairs  of  spurs  in  my  kit-bag 
— issue  variety,  nickel  dress-spurs,  officer's 
nickel  dress,  your  nickel-plate  ones  that  I  took 


WORKING  WITH  THE  BIG  GUNS        117 

to  Plattsburg  (remember?),  and  Mexican 
"dress."  Would  you  like  any?  Do  you  wear 
spurs  much,  as  officer,  which  I  hope  you  are 
now?  Does  a  private  wear  them?  I  used  to 
eat,  drink,  sleep,  ride,  and  walk  in  them,  and 
it  was  queer  changing  over.  No  spurs  are 
worn  in  the  Siege.  .  .  . 

Our  gun  drill  goes  like  this: 


(2)® 

^^  ® 

You  have  here  a  gun  or  howitzer.    For  six 
and  eight-inch  drill  you  have  ten  men. 
No.  1  is  a  sergeant,  and  supervises,  checking 
the  orders  and  sights. 

2  fires  the  gun  by  pulling  lanyard. 

3  rams  the  shell,  inserts  cartridge,  un- 

capping fuse  first. 

4  sights  the  gun  (the  T-shaped  thing  on 

the  left  of  breech).  - 

5  and  7  bring  up  the  shell  on  a  tray; 
5  rams  with  8. 


118  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

6  brings  up  the  cartridge,  received  from 

8. 
9  substitutes  with  5  on  shell-tray. 
10  substitutes  for  No.  1  in  case  of  casual- 
ty, and  issues  fuses  and  shells  to  5 
and  7. 
The  gun  crew  of  nine  men  and  one  N.C.O. 
forms  up.      (No.  10  is  an  N.C.O.,  also,  in 
France.)     On  command,  ''For  Gun  Drill,  tell 
off!''  they  "  'shun"  and  number.    Then  comes, 
"Prepare  for  Action^  they  double  out  and 
secure  their  tools,  called  "stores."     A  report 
of  these  is  made,   when  they   are   correctly 
placed.    Then  they  form  up  again.    On  com- 
mand, "Actionr  from  the  officer  they  double 
to  their  places.     (In  reality  Nos.  5  to  10  are 
much  further  back — about  fifteen  yards  in  rear 
of  gun.) 

Officer  gives  the  nature  of  shell  out:  "Am- 
mitol,  ftise  106,  lyddite,  charge  3!"  for  ex- 
ample, meaning  that  shell  explosive  is  ammitol, 
fuse  is  No.  106,  cartridge  powder  is  lyddite, 
and  cartridge  charge  3.  No.  1  repeats  order 
to  5,  7,  and  10,  and  salutes.  .  .  . 

No.  1  gives  ''Loadr  to  5,  7,  and  10.  They 
bring  up  shell,  it  is  rammed  home  by  3  and  5, 
and  shell-tray  returned.    No.  6  brings  up  car- 


WORKING  WITH  THE  BIG  GUNS        119 

tridge,  shows  it  to  1,  gives  it  to  3,  who  insert? 
it;  2  closes  breech.  .  .  . 

I  hope  you've  been  able  to  get  a  bit  of  an 
idea  about  our  work.  It's  hard  at  times.  Be- 
sides gun-drill,  we  dig  gun-pits;  gun-plat- 
forms; erect  gyns  (transportable  derricks, 
man-power)  ;  and  build  shears  to  transport 
guns  over  unbridgeable  rivers.  Men  swim 
across  with  ropes  and  poles,  erect  two  braces 


'(B)  with  connecting  cable  (A),  sling  tackle 
and  blocks  (C,C) ,  attach  gun  at  D,  and  by  the 
men  on  ropes  (M,M)  gradually  slackening  on 
one  side  and  drawing  in  on  other,  the  gun  is 
hitched  across.  We  tie  all  manner  of  knots 
and  lashings ;  erect  framework  for  camouflage, 
the  concealing  dirt-coloured  matting  strung 
over  guns  in  exposed  places;  do  semaphore 
signalling  (I'm  quite  an  expert) ;  foot-drill; 
physical  "jerks"  ("P.T.")  every  morning; 
shell-ramming  in  dummy  guns;  do  bath  pa- 
rades, pay  parades  (rarely),  and  ordinary  pa- 


120  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

rades  (any  set  and  appointed  drill  or  exercise 
is  called  a  "parade") — and  so  on. 

You  haven't  heard  half  our  woes.  Our 
routine  follows: 

5:45 — Reveille.  (No  one  hears  it  or  gets 
up.) 

6:45— P.T.  Parade   (demmit!)  till  7:30. 

7:30 — Breakfast.     Clean  up. 

8 :45-12 :30 — Morning  Parade,  with  a  break- 
off  of  fifteen  minutes  at  11. 

12:30 — Dinner. 

1 :45-4 :30 — Afternoon  Parade. 

4:30 — Tea — our  third  and  last  meal. 

5:15-6:15 — Foot-drill,  lecture,  or  route- 
march. 

6:15-10 — Free  to  go  out,  if  not  on  fatigvie 
or  C.B. 

There  you  have  it.  The  various  drills  come 
in  hour  or  hour-and-a-half  periods  during 
morning  and  afternoon  parade.  Pay  parade 
came  a  week  ago.  Voila!  I  drew  <£2,  to  my 
joy.  Yesterday,  to  my  grief,  I  lost  purse  and 
all.    But  I've  other  funds.  .  .  . 

We  are  in  huts  here — electric  lights,  spring 
cots  with  straw  mattresses,  etc. ;  food  at  tables 
in  the  huts.  The  food  is  quite  fair,  but  at  a 
meal  now  and  then  rather  scarce. 


RAMMING  HOME  A  SHELL — Canadian   Heavy   Artillery 


WORKING  WITH  THE  BIG  GUNS        121 

All  British  forces  wear  puttees — not  Fox, 
but  issue.  I  had  a  pair  of  Fox's  in  Canada, 
t^ut  traded  them  well.  "Monarchs"  I  like  bet- 
ter: you  can  get  them  all  over  Canada.  The 
•issue  puttees  are  worn  on  parades,  but  we  have 
dress  ones  to  walk  out.  Fox's,  and  other 
makes,  of  course,  all  originated  with  the  Brit- 
ish. The  issue  are  cheaper  cloth.  The  Infan- 
try, Flying  Corps,  and  non-mounted  corps 
wear  them  rolled  up;  the  mounted  men  roll 
down,  secured  at  the  ankle.  You  should  wear 
them  that  way — you  must.  To  wear  them 
rolled  up  in  a  mounted  corps  is  a  gross  mis- 
take. You  see,  we  wear  them  all  the  time,  and 
if  you  are  mounted  and  roll  them  up,  they  will 
quickly  undo,  so  they're  rolled  down.  We 
wear  ours  up,  of  course. 

We  wear  a  leather  bandolier  for  walking 
out,  but  the  Siege  should  have  waist  leather 
belts,  like  infantry;  also  British  "slacks,"  or 
khaki  trousers,  folded  tight  from  the  knee 
down,  and  "putteed,"  with  the  knee  part 
turned  down  over  the  top  of  the  puttee.  But 
we  still  have  our  C.F.A.  riding  breeches,  fine 
Bedford  cord,  reinforced  with  leather  at  knees 
for  dress,  and  duck  fatigue  and  drill  pants. 
The  Infantry  (British)  wear  trousers.  Only 
mounted  troops  wear  tight  breeches.  ,  .  . 


122  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

Do  you  wear  sticks  ?  A  decent  army  should. 
Infantry  wear  swagger  canes,  or  full-length 
canes ;  Siege,  full  canes ;  mounted  corps,  whips. 
You  should  carry  a  whip,  but  you  can't  get  the 
right  sort — and  I  forget,  an  officer  should 
carry  a  cane  in  all  services,  except  in  the 
trenches,  where  you  have  a  short  trench  stick, 
like  a  crop.  I  remember  last  year  I  and  some 
other  wise  ones  wore  sticks,  but  most  did  not. 
It's  part  of  the  uniform,  though,  so  do  it.  You 
can't  find  a  better  model  than  the  British  style 
for  style. 

Then  our  salute.  Volumes  may  be  written 
on  the  subject.  I'll  describe  it  later.  Also 
later:  how  I  martinetted  the  Major,  genu- 
flexioned  the  General,  and  sillified  the  subal- 
tern, or  lopped  the  Leftenant — shall  follow  in 
an  early  issue.  'Twas  a  wonderful  night !  .  .  . 
Yours,  as  ever, 

"The  Kid." 

P.S.    Nineteen  now,  you  know! 

Roffey  Camp,  Horsham,  Sussex 
18  August,  1917 

Dear  Mrs.  Clark: 

.  .  .  Cheero!  This  is  the  best  panacea  for 
gloom  and  blues  that  can  be  found:  a  British 
war-slang  creation,  it  is  on  the  lips  of  every 


WORKING  WITH  THE  BIG  GUNS        123 

one  in  this  fair  country,  that  is  far  harder  tried 
than,  probably,  America  ever  could  be  called 
on  to  be.  Let  it  be  the  motto  of  you  dear  peo- 
ple also,  for  I  can  see  it,  in  fancy,  form  and 
spring  gaily  from  your  lips,  in  the  worst  cir- 
cumstances, as  I've  seen  it  here  in  England 
from  Earl's  Son  and  Clerk's  Son  ("Clark's" 
Son — tell  Wilder  of  that!),  from  fine  straight 
British  lad  and  pure  erect  English  girl,  and 
their  fathers  and  mothers  following  suit.  In 
chorus,  now— "CHEERO!" 

Awfully  good  news  comes  to  me  from  every- 
body. Gyles  sends  from  Plattsburg  his  plans 
and  hopes  of  a  Regular  Army  commission,  or 
a  Reserve  one  at  second  best;  Sydney  Stanley 
(my  namesake)  has  finished  his  O.T.C.  at  the 
old  College  by  now.  Wilder  too;  Ed,  from 
next  door  to  you,  has  done  his  apprenticeship 
at  Navy  Reserve  and  Base  Hospital,  coming 
to  the  conclusion  that  he  doesn't  want  to  doc- 
tor, after  all,  but  instead  to  enter  the  Harvard 
O.T.C,  or  something  else,  this  fall;  Foxie 
(Foxcroft)  is  in  the  Naval  Reserve — ^why  the 
Navy  should  attract  so  /  don't  see;  Lauriat 
Lane  is  driving  an  American  Ambulance  in 
the  Verdun  sector;  my  Dartmouth  friends  are 
in  the  O.T.C.  there,  at  Plattsburg,  in  the  Reg- 
ulars, in  the  Navy ;  a  good  friend  of  mine,  Mr. 


124  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

Stearns  of  the  Dartmouth  English  Depart- 
ment, is  O.C.  of  a  company  there.  .  .  . 

You  are  absolutely  right  on  the  Y.  M.  C.  A., 
or  "Y,"  as  we  call  them.  Every  camp  in  Eng- 
land and  France  has  a  Y  in  it — dispensing 
amusement,  lectures,  a  wise  leaven  of  religion 
which  the  men  like,  furnishing  writing  mate- 
rials free,  refreshments  at  cheapest  cost,  and 
good  books  to  read.  You  will  do  well  in  Amer- 
ica to  follow  the  British  lead  in  this.  You 
know  the  Y  originated  in  England.  Every  Y 
is  under  a  Y.  M.  C.  A.  officer,  volunteer  civil- 
ian helpers,  and  the  camp  Padre,  non-secta- 
rian. The  Padre  is  the  military  chaplain,  a 
captain  or  major  usually.  Hours  are  set  for 
opening  and  closing;  free  concerts  and  the- 
atrical parties  secured,  and  everything  done 
to  help  the  men  that  well  can  be.  Ours  here 
has  a  good  gramophone  with  some  fine  rec- 
ords. .  .  . 

Shelley's  birthplace  is  two  miles  west  of 
here.  I  went  there  last  week.  This  is  the 
region  which  inspired  his  best  poems  of  nature. 
I've  heard  what  may  be  the  descendants  of  the 
very  skylark  which  he  apostrophised  so  sub- 
limely. One  can  well  appreciate  his  love  of 
the  vidld  things,  the  blue  fleecy-clouded  heav- 
ens, the  May  wind  in  the  trees,  and  this  fair 


WORKING  WITH  THE  BIG  GUNS        125 

green  wood  and  hill  and  meadow-land  that  is 
England.  Some  earthly  things  have  a  bit  of 
the  immortal  in  them,  have  they  not?  This 
beautiful  EngHsh  countryside  has  pulsed  with 
the  best  aspirations  of  countless  men  down  the 
years.  It  is  indeed  a  wonderful  thing  to  know 
and  feel.  No  one  realises  better  than  I  the 
splendid  chance  I  am  having  to  be  here  in  my 
youth,  which  does  not  return  to  one. 

I  cannot  thank  you  enough  for  the  cheer  you 
have  given  me,  so  I  won't  try,  but  you  know 
it,  still.  Give  my  best  wishes  to  all,  Louise 
and  Wilder  and  Mr.  Clark  and  Miss  Craw- 
ford, your  very  sunny  sister!  .  .  . 

Luck  to  every  one  I  and,  till  the  next. 
Yours,  as  ever, 

"A." 


CHAPTER  VI 

AT  "TIN  TOWN,"  LYDD 

Doing  Sentry  Go — Camp  Ditties — Cooden  Camp — 
Pevensey — Application  for  a  Commission — The  Y. 
M.  C.  A.— Pay— Flag  Worship— At  the  Target 
Range — Camp  Fare — ^An  Air  Raid  on  Dover 

Cooden  Camp,  Bexkill-on-Sea,  Sussex 

26  August,  1917 

Deae  Gyles: 

We  arrived  here  two  days  ago  from  Hor- 
sham, and  move  on  to  Lydd  the  day  after  to- 
morrow. .  .  . 

But  as  to  how  I  martinetted  the  Major,  and 
so  on.     I  was  doing  sentry  go:  it  was  ten 
o'clock  and  after.    I  had  been  challenging  the 
privates  who  were  entering,  when  suddenly 
there  appeared,  approaching  me  from  within 
camp,  a  figure  in  a  British  warm.     He  was 
short  and  fat,  and  walked  slowly. 
"'Alt!     'Oo  goes  there?" 
(Croak,  pianissimo)  :    "Friend!" 
"Advance,  friend,  an'-be-recognised !" 

126 


AT  "TIN  TOWN,"  LYDD  127 

He  advanced  and  stood  glaring  at  me  from 
the  comer  of  his  eye.  I  looked  him  all  over, 
finally  at  the  crown  on  his  shoulder:  often  had 
he  talked  with  me  on  sick  parade  when  I  want- 
ed a  day's  holiday.  So,  after  some  more  de- 
liberation, I  thought  he  could  go  through: 

"Pass,  friend,  all's  well." 

"Ahem,  very  good;  good  night,  sentry,"  said 
the  old  boy,  and  waddled  on.  One  scalp  to  my 
credit. 

Shortly  after,  two  figures  approached  the 
gate  for  leaving  the  camp.  Far  in  the  distance 
I  halted  them. 


(Calm  low  voice) :     "Friend!" 

(Harsh  roar)  :     "General  ofiicer!" 

"Advance,  One^  an'-be-recognised !" 

The  fuming  adjutant,  who  wished  to  leave 

at  once,  came  up,  and  swore  audibly.    Smiling 

sweetly,  I  said: 

"Pass,  friend.     Advance,  TwoT 

Up  he  came.    Ye  gods,  it  was  the  General! 

If  he  were  displeased  I  might  be  clinked,  court- 

martialled,    D.C.M.'d,   well-nigh   shot.     But 

never  did  a  Stanley  falter. 
"Show  your  rank,  sir!" 
Obligingly  did  the  much-moustached  old  boy 

extend  a  sleeve  from  his  burberry    (British 


128  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

trench  raincoat) .  Critically  did  I  examine  the 
Crossed  Baton  and  Sword,  the  Crown,  and 
the  resplendent  Star.     Then: 

"Very  good,  sir.     Pass,  friend;  all's  welll" 

The  dear  old  thing  saluted,  and  passed  on. 
I  breathed  well  again. 

Much  later,  nearly  midnight,  when  all  ranks 
are  supposed  to  be  in  bed,  there  came  one 
from  without — without  bandolier,  cap,  or 
puttees.    Very  irregular:  hence  I  am  stern. 

'"Alt!" 


"Advance  " 

He  comes  up  and  stands  humbly  before  me. 
Ha-hum !  The  guard  room  for  you  to  report. 
But  a  sergeant  need  not  report.  Is  he  a  ser- 
geant, though — shall  I  save  him  the  bother? 
I  feel  for  his  stripes  for  identification.  On  his 
arm  I  grope  and  find  none,  high  or  low.  Be- 
ing about  to  say  "Report  to  the  Guard  Room!" 
a  mild  voice  assures  me,  "Feel  up  here."  Won- 
deringly,  with  an  awful  feeling  dawning  on 
me,  I  run  up  his  arm  to  his  shoulder-strap. 
As  an  electric  wire  I  feel — what?  a  Star! 
Sacr-re  tonnerre,  a  Second-Lieutenant  in  His 
Majesty's  Royal  Artillery!  Visions  of  crime 
and  sentence  come  to  me — Use  majeste — paw- 
ing over  an  Imperial  Ofiicer!    But  I  am  re- 


AT  "TIN  TOWN,"  LYDD  129 

solved  to  carry  it  off  with  e-clatt.    I  smartly 
spring  to  attention,  while  he  chuckles. 

"Very  good,  sir!    Pass,  friend;  all's  well!" 

He  obligingly  says,  "Good  night,  sentry," 
and  leaves  me  to  a  cold  sweat  and  awful  mirth ! 

The  night's  work  was  done. 

Last  week,  having  spoken  in  justification  of 
an  accusation  of  faulty  drill  from  "Sergeant 
Deah,"  I  go  to  the  clink.  Next  day  I  receive 
seven  days  C.B.,  from  the  Major.  But  I  ap- 
peal to  the  Colonel.  It  goes  through,  and, 
though  I  got  no  remission  of  sentence,  I  have 
the  satisfaction  of  seeing  myself  righted — of 
seeing  the  officer  (our  Lef tenant,  Mr.  Perry) 
receive  an  admonishment  from  Major  and 
Colonel  for  his  over-hasty  action.  Hence  all 
is  well,  and  I  am  appeased.    Such  is  the  Army. 

You  ask  what  we  sing.  Various  ditties. 
But  not  much  of  fevered  patriotic  stuff. 
That's  passe  in  England  now.  There's  a  bit 
too  much  of  the  real  thing  over  here,  to  coun- 
terfeit it  in  song.  But  all  this  Spring  the  catch 
has  been  "Take  me  back  to  dear  old  Bhghty." 

"Jack  Dunn,  son  of  a  gun,  over  in  France  to-day 
Keeps  fit,  doing  his  bit,  up  to  his  eyes  in  clay. 
Each  night,  after  a  fight,  to  pass  the  time  along, 
He's  got  a  little  gramophone  that  plays  this  song: 


130  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

Chorus 
Tike  me  back  to  deah  old  Bllght-y, 
Put  me  on  the  trine  for  Lunnon  Tahn,"  etc. 

Cockney  talk,  you  know.    And: 

"Taffy's  got  his  Jennie  in  Glamorgan, 
Sandy's  got  his  Maggie  in  Dundee, 
While  Michael  O'Leary 
Thinks  of  his  dearie 
Far  across  the  Irish  Sea; 
Billy's  got  his  Lily  up  in  Lunnon, — 
So  the  boys  march  on  with  smiles, 
For  ev'ry  Tommy's  got  a  girl  somewhere 
In  the  dear  old  British  Isles !" 

But  the  old  standby  is  this : 

**Private  Perks  is  a  funny  little  codger. 

With  a  smile,  a  funny  smile. 
Five-foot  none,  he's  an  artful  little  dodger, 

With  a  smile — a  sunny  smile. 
Flush  or  broke,  he'll  have  his  httle  joke. 

He  can't  be  suppressed. 
All  the  other  fellows  have  to  grin 

When  he  gets  this  off  his  chest — Hi! 

Clwrus 
Pack  up  your  troubles  in  your  old  kit-bag 

And  smile,  smile,  smile! 
While  you've  a  lucifer  to  light  your  fag 

Smile,  boys,  that's  the  stj'le! 


AT  "TIN  TOWN/'  LYDD  ISl 

What's  the  use  of  worrying? 

It  never  was  worth  while — So ! 
Pack  up  your  troubles  in  your  old  kit-bag 
And  smile,  smile,  smile!" 
Yours, 
No.  343939  Arthur  A.  Stanley, 
10th  Can.  Siege  Bty.,  C.G.A. 

Cooden  Camp,  Bexhill,  Sussex 
26  August,  1917 

Dear  Mr.  Stearns: 

You  shall  hear  of  our  coming  hither,  or  rath- 
er of  what  has  transpired  since.  We  are  at  this 
camp  for  only  three  days  more,  whence  we 
go  to  Lydd. 

A  strong  wind  was  blowing  as  our  train 
came  down  from  Lewes,  through  Polegate,  and 
out  over  the  Levels  to  Bexhill.  We  marched 
(I  cycled)  west  then,  for  two  miles  straight 
back,  as  we  had  come  to  the  end  of  the  tram- 
line, then  turned  north  up  a  hill  to  the  camp 
on  top.  Imperials  and  Canadian  Garrison 
Artillery  are  camped  here. 

You  go  over  the  hill  to  the  western  side,  and 
look  out  over  the  fair  green  Levels  (as  I  did 
this  morning)  dotted  with  sheep  and  hay- 
stacks, winding  "diks"  between,  with  tree  and 
hedge  waving  in  the  wind.    Several  miles  out 


132  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

are  the  houses  and  grey  castle  of  Pevensey. 
The  Bay  village  lies  at  the  left,  by  the  white- 
capped  Channel ;  and,  closing  the  view,  eternal 
old  Beachy  Head,  with  the  light  and  Coast- 
guard station,  making  a  little  hump  at  the  end, 
above  the  white  chalk  sea-cliff — and  Bullock 
Down,  Willingdon,  Combe,  the  Long  Man, 
and  Windover  Hill  stretching  back  to  the 
Levels  side.  The  cloud  shadows  raced  over 
the  sunny  green  of  it  all,  back  inland  to  wood- 
ed Wealden  uplands  at  Herstmonceux,  Hail- 
sham,  and  Horse-Bridge. 

We  bath-paraded  to  the  beach  yesterday 
morning,  and  had  the  opportunity  of  swim- 
ming in  the  foam-lashed  Channel.  I  did  not, 
feeling  chilly,  but  went  back  to  the  railway 
line  and  watched  the  shepherds  tending  the 
flocks,  and  convalescent  soldiers  piling  up  big 
hay-waggons  of  good  marsh  grass. 

Yesterday  afternoon  I  took  bicycle  back  to 
Little  Common  hamlet,  and  straight  west 
against  the  wind  to  the  Level  edge,  where  I 
turned  for  Pevensey.  The  wind  came  tearing 
in,  making  it  a  hard  job,  and  the  four  miles 
took  nearly  half  an  hour.  Pevensey  came  ever 
nearer,  however,  and  at  last  I  crossed  Peven- 
sey Haven,  now  so  narrowed,  into  the  High 
Street.    It  is  a  pretty  little  place,  lined  with 


AT  "TIN  TOWN/'  LYDD 


ISS: 


0(<l 


PLAN   OF   PEVENSET   CASTLE 


134  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

old  stone  and  cement  houses,  and  trees,  a  mile 
and  a  half  from  the  Bay. 

At  the  end  of  the  street,  on  the  left,  stands 
the  solid  Roman  wall,  factum  A.D.  300,  with 
the  Porta  Pretoriana  squarely  fronting  the 
road,  which  turns  to  the  left  and  circles  the 
wall  at  the  right.  The  Mint  House,  residence 
of  Andrew  Borde,  the  Court  Physician  to 
Henry  VIII,  is  on  the  right  opposite.  It  is 
much  be-signed  and  be-labelled,  to  excess  in- 
deed. The  fee  is  sixpence.  Coinage  is  sup- 
posed to  have  been  minted  here  in  the  Con- 
queror's time. 

I  entered  the  Porta  Pretoriana.  The  ground 
within  is  higher,  grass-grown,  with  grazing  cat- 
tle. At  the  left  the  Castle  stands,  ivy-grown 
and  very  beautiful  over  the  Moat.  The 
Roman  walls  are  twelve  feet  thick,  I  should 
say,  and  thirty  high.  They  were  higher,  but 
the  land  has  risen.  I  walked  around  them,  and 
climbed  the  Norman  Watch  Tower.  A  won- 
derful view  is  had  over  the  Levels  to  Herst- 
monceux,  Heathfield,  Horse-Bridge,  and 
Brightling,  and  Battle  in  the  low  hills  at  the 
right — ^which  Puck  and  Sir  Richard  and  de 
Aquila  saw!  At  the  west  stands  the  huge 
Porta  Decumana,  into  which  Parnesius  came, 
to  Anderida  as  "Centurion  of  the  XXX."  So 


PEVENSEY    CASTI.E 


AT  "TIN  TOWN/'  LYDD  135 

around  to  the  Castle  again,  with  the  massive 
ivy-grown  portcullis  and  Eagle  Tower — Tur- 
ris  de  Aquila — named  from  Gilbert  and  his 
sons.  In  the  Northwest  Tower  were  impris- 
oned Edward,  Duke  of  York,  Prince  James 
(James  I  of  Scotland),  and  Queen  Joan  of 
[Navarre. 

Within  the  Castle  proper — the  Norman 
work — you  see  the  ruined  keep,  dungeons  in 
the  Northwest  Tower,  West  Tower,  sallyport, 
and  the  well,  into  which — 

"The  Gold  I  gather 

Like  a  shining  Fish; 
Then  it  descends 
Into  deep  water,*' 

perhaps?     Where  Fulke  hung  in  the  tide- 
wash? 

Up  on  the  West  Tower  you  command  the 
Levels  over  the  walls,  Pevensey  Haven  (now 
dried  up),  Pevensey  Bay,  and  the  Channel. 
From  this  the  "Old  Men"  at  Pevensey  watched 
against  Robert  of  Normandy.  Here  you  see 
the  stony  beach  of  Pevensey  Bay,  and  the  mist- 
hung  Channel,  stretching  over  to  Normandy 
— whence  came  the  legions  to  build  Anderida, 
Weland  and  his  image,  and,  28  September, 


136  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

1066, — as  on  the  Bayeux  tapestry  recorded — 
HIC:  WILLELM:  DVX  IN  MAGNO: 
NAVIGIO:  MARE:  TRANSIVIT  ET 
VENIT  AD  PEVENES^.  It  was  a  great 
thing  to  see  all  this.  I  would  like  to  tell  you 
much  more,  but  it  will  not  shape  well  into 
words,  and  what  boots  it,  when  you're  not 
here  to  see  it  for  yourself — which  is  the  main 
thing?  I'm  better  and  happier  for  having  seen 
all  that  yesterday,  though. 

Returning  to  camp  I  rode,  with  the  wind, 
north  to  Herstmonceux,  and  saw  the  old  brick 
castle.  Nothing  like  Pevensey,  though.  We 
leave  here  Tuesday  for  Lydd,  whence  I  will 
write  you  more,  with  my  new  address — don't 
use  this  one. 

Yours, 
Art.  a.  Stanley, 
No.  34^3939. 

10th  Canadian  Siege  Battery,  C.G.A. 
"Tin  Town"  Lydd,  Romney  Marsh,  Kent 
28  August,  1917 

Dear  Father: 

It  has  been  beastly  weather  for  the  past 
three  days,  raining  great  guns  and  blowing  up 
a  gale  out  of  Brittany  and  Bay  o'  Biscay  O! 
that  has  knocked  down  trees,  apples,  crops, 
inter  alia.     But  to-night  it  has  cleared  a  bit. 


AT  "TIN  TOWN,"  LYDD  137 

and  as  I  walked  back  from  Lydd  village  the 
moon  was  shining  brightly,  about  half -full,  and 
the  light  fleece  nimbus  harriers  were  racing  up 
off  the  Channel  and  running  shadows  across 
the  blowing,  waving  marsh  grass  into  Kent. 
The  sand  blew  up  in  gusts  now  and  then,  and 
Dungeness  Light,  at  the  end  of  the  low  point 
that  juts  into  the  choppy  Channel,  was  dark 
and  black  in  the  moon. 

We  left  Horsham  Friday  last  (the  24th), 
having  finished  our  term  of  gun-drill  and  pre- 
liminary work.  We  weren't  sorry  to  go,  for  a 
change  was  welcome  enough  after  the  rather 
arduous  routine,  and  every  week  completed  is 
a  week  nearer  France. 

We  went  by  train  (my  bicycle  in  the  goods 
van)  south  to  Lewes  and  east  to  Polegate,  over 
Pevensey  Levels  to  Bexhill,  five  miles  west  of 
Hastings.  We  stayed  there  till  this  morning, 
with  windy  weather  all  through,  and  rain  from 
Sunday  afternoon  on.  We  were  in  fair  quar- 
ters, at  Cooden  Camp,  nearly  two  miles  west 
of  the  town,  with  other  Imperial  batteries  w^ait- 
ing  for  a  turn  of  shooting  at  Lydd,  which  is 
quite  taxed  at  present  to  find  room  for  the 
shoots  of  all  the  siege  batteries  of  the  British 
forces  which  come  here  if  they  drill  in  Eng- 
land, sooner  or  later,  generally  just  before 


138  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

proceeding  overseas.     "Lyddite"  was   origi- 
nated in  this  camp.  .  .  . 

I  have  sent  to  Mr.  Lane  in  this  mail  an  ap- 
plication for  my  commission  as  an  Imperial 
officer,  in  the  Royal  Garrison  Artillery,  prob- 
ably. The  paper  has  two  certificates,  of  good 
moral  character  for  four  years  past,  and  of 
entrance-to-college  education,  which  a  respon- 
sible person  and  teacher  must  sign.  The  col- 
lege head  is  not  required,  and  JMr.  Lane  is  a 
professor  at  Tufts.  You  couldn't  sign  for  "me, 
for  obvious  reasons,  and  as  being  an  "inter- 
ested person."  It  is  only  a  matter  of  form, 
and  the  Army  does  not  care  a  hang  as  long  as 
it  has  the  blanks  filled,  and  never  asks  ques- 
tions about  it.  I've  seen  lots  of  cases  where 
incogs,  are  never  disturbed  in  the  Army:  'tis 
a  most  apathetic  organisation.  I  cannot  get 
the  appointment  till  I  am  in  France,  when  I 
shall  apply  for  recommendation  by  my  O.C., 
and  then  be  posted  to  an  O.T.C. — Officers' 
Training  Corps.  I  am  asking  him  to  return  it 
as  soon  as  possible,  as  I  need  it  as  soon  as  may 
be. 

If  I  can  be  recommended,  I  shall  surely  be 
in  luck.    I  have  always  wanted  it,  of  course. 
Yours  truly, 

Aethur. 


AT  "TIN  TOWN,"  LYDD  139 

Soldiers*  Institute,  Lydd  Camp 
Lydd,  Kent 

31  August,  1917 

Dear  Father: 

This  afternoon,  after  a  hot  few  hours'  work 
on  the  ranges,  I  came  back  to  camp  to  find 
your  three  very  welcome  letters.  .  .  .  Two  of 
your  letters  were  "opened  by  censor,"  but 
nothing  touched.  .  .  . 

This  camp  is  on  the  barren  shingle  "ness," 
with  little  attraction  except  what  is  found  in 
the  recreation  "huts."  These  are  of  various 
sorts,  being  maintained  by  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, Wesleyans,  Regimental  Institute,  and 
Y.M.C.A.  They  all  have  a  coffee  bar,  with 
refreshments,  canned  goods,  hot  drinks,  et 
cetera,  a  billiard  and  ping-pong  room,  a  li- 
brary, and  a  writing  room,  with  often  a  prayer 
room  added.  They  alFord  decent  amusement 
and  occupation  to  numberless  men,  without 
friends  in  a  strange  neighbourhood  or  coun- 
try, who  otherwise  would  be  obliged  to  loaf 
about  the  barrack  room,  the  streets,  or  the  pub- 
lic houses.  Most  of  my  letters  are  written  in 
some  hut  or  other.  The  Y.M.C.A.  does  per- 
haps the  most  extensive  and  best  work,  and  if 
you  ever  contemplate  some  contribution,  and 
are  uncertain  as  to  who  should  receive  it,  the 


140  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

Y.M.C.A.  Recreation  Hut  Fund  is,  I  can  as- 
sure you,  a  very  deserving  recipient.*  There 
is  a  Y.M.C.A.  hut  in  practically  every  camp 
in  England,  and  they  are  everywhere  behind 
the  lines  at  the  Front,  all  being  staffed  by  un- 
paid volunteer  workers,  who  do  their  bit  as 
nobly  as  any  nurse  or  fighting  man.  .  .  . 

The  money  order  is  in  good  season,  and  I 
thank  you  very  much  for  it.  It  will  be  of  great 
assistance  in  enabling  me  to  see  more  than  I 
could  otherwise.  We  are  not  badly  off, 
though.  We  receive  $18  of  Canadian  pay 
here  a  month,  w^hich  is  paid  semi-monthly  in 
varying  amounts,  sometimes  10s.,  £l,  £l,  10s., 
or  £2 — occasionally  as  much  as  £3.  If  we  are 
given  a  large  amount  once,  the  following  pay- 
day will  often  produce  only  10s.  It  is  a  very 
uneven,  and  rather  unsatisfactory  system,  or 
rather  "plan,"  for  there  is  no  system  to  it. 
Through  some  caprice  of  the  paymaster  a  man 
may  receive  several  large  amounts  running, 
however,  as  £3,  £2, 10s.  and  £2 — thus  over- 
drawing his  wage  for  a  month  and  a  half  con- 
siderably, and  often  resulting  in  placing  him 
in  debt.    In  France,  or  on  fighting  service  any- 

*  Wainwright  Merrill's  arrears  of  army  pay,  three  instal- 
ments of  which  were  received  after  his  death,  were  sent  by 
his  father  to  the  Maritime  Division  of  the  Canadian  Y.M.C.A. 
for  its  work  among  Canadian  soldiers  overseas. 


AT  "TIN  TOWN/'  LYDD  141 

where,  the  Canadians  receive  about  fivepence 
a  day,  I  beheve.  The  balance  is  put  to  their 
credit  in  England,  and  may  be  drawn  when 
returned  convalescent,  or  on  leave. 

The  Imperials  (British  Regulars)  draw,  in 
general,  supposedly  a  shilling  a  day;  but  cer- 
tain married  soldiers  are  compelled  to  allot 
sixpence  of  this  to  their  wives,  and  part  of  the 
rem.aining  sixpence  is  "stopped"  for  barrack 
damages,  etc.,  with  the  result  that  many  draw 
only  half-a-crown  and  less  a  week,  month  in 
and  month  out.  Certain  branches  of  the  serv- 
ice are  better  paid.  The  Royal  Flying  Corps 
privates  (2d  mechanics)  get  two  shillings,  1st 
mechanics  three  shillings,  while  "labourer" 
privates  have  but  the  "shilling  a  day."  There 
is  considerable  discontent,  and  agitation  to 
raise  the  pay,  which  will  probably  bear  fruit 
by  giving  the  infantry  private  a  shilling  "clear" 
of  all  stoppages.  Even  then  it  is  mighty  lit- 
tle, of  course.  Conscripts  draw  even  less  than 
the  volunteers'  imaginary  shilling. 

America  always  is  strong  for  flags,  isn't  it? 
You  see  the  flag  everywhere — they  even  pa- 
rade it  too  much  in  the  Army.  I  think  it  has 
the  tendency  to  make  it  a  bit  common.  In 
England  or  Canada  one  seldom  sees  the  Union 
Jack.    The  first  one  I  ever  saw  in  the  Army 


142  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

was  on  the  staff  at  the  gate  at  Horsham.  But 
for  all  that,  the  flag  means  much  more  to  a 
Briton  than  the  undemonstrative  Briton  will 
tell  you,  and  they  think  of  it,  when  they  do  at 
all,  in  a  much  finer  way  than  most  Americans, 
I  think. 

In  the  cinema  ("movies")  at  the  end  of  a 
news-weekly  film  there  regularly  appears  a 
"flash"  of  the  British  Jack  on  a  short  pole, 
over  the  world,  flapping  boldly.  The  specta- 
tors do  not  clap,  but  you  see  here  and  there  a 
glint  of  the  eye  and  a  faint  smile,  that  speak 
volumes.  Then  at  the  end,  of  course,  the 
King's  photograph  is  thrown  on,  and  the  mu- 
sic plays  the  anthem,  while  the  whole  house 
stands  at  attention,  soldiers  and  civihans  too, 
Georgie  may  be  but  a  figure-head,  but  he's  a 
mighty  fine  one,  and  I  vote  for  him!  I  wish, 
as  a  bit  of  a  favour  to  me,  that  you  would  keep 
that  silk  Jack  you  speak  of — on  your  room 
wall  perhaps.  It  was  one  I  rather  valued,  and 
I'd  like  to  think  that  you  have  it  safely.  .  .  . 

On  the  range  to-day  the  15-pounders,  6-inch, 
and  8-inch  were  lopping  over  some  battery 
fire,  then  some  good  salvo  work,  and  a  trench 
bombardment.  I  was  detailed  to  the  job  of 
filling  shell-holes.  We  went  down  on  the  lit- 
tle camp  railway,  run  by  the  Royal  Engineers, 


AT  "TIN  TOWN,"  LYDD  143 

to  the  S.P.  (signalling  point),  about  three 
miles  from  the  guns,  and  watched.  The  tar- 
gets were  stretched  away  from  us  in  line,  the 
nearest  at  100  or  150  yards. 

In  "battery  fire"  we  would  hear  the  dull 
boom,  then  an  interval  of  a  few  seconds,  Boom! 
and  a  heap  of  shingle  and  sand  would  fly  up, 
well  over  to  the  left.  Ten  seconds  later  a 
second  would  follow;  then  the  third,  getting 
nearer — a  "dud"  (unexploded)  that  time;  the 
fourth,  the  fifth — you  can  hear  the  whistle 
plainly  now;  the  sixth  boom — that's  ours — 
"Wh-e-e-e-e-e-E-E-^!"  Almost  overhead  it 
seems.  Boom!  Not  ten  rods  off  in  the  shingle 
the  spurt  goes  up,  and  a  pebble  glances  off  the 
rock  near  us.  "Sometimes  it's  lead  instead," 
said  the  sergeant,  and  we  wisely  moved  into 
the  "splinter-proof."  It's  a  peculiar  sensation, 
being  under  fire.  You  hear  the  filthy  thing 
whistling,  low,  then  louder  and  louder,  and 
your  impulse,  invariably,  is  to  avoid  it  some- 
how. Some  men  bend  the  head,  others  want 
to  throw  themselves  flat,  others  turn  and 
"double."  But,  of  course,  except  for  the  very 
improbable  combination  of  lower  charge  than 
usual  and  "5'  right"  incorrectly  put  on  the 
sight,  we  were  in  no  danger. 


144  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

Salvo  fire  is  a  bit  impressive.  Six  barking 
booms  come  at  once,  and  one  long  whistle,  that 
is  yet  six  distinct  whistles,  comes  down  toward 
you,  louder,  louder — then  six  bursts  of  earth 
and  stones  start  up  at  once,  hanging  in  the  air, 
slowly  sinking,  with  a  heavy  roar  of  the  H.E. 
(high  explosive)  distributing  the  shrapnel. 
Afterward  we  filled  in  the  holes.  The  shells 
burst  into  all  sorts  of  shapes.  I  picked  up 
bits,  and  dug  some  undischarged  shrapnel  out 
of  their  rosin  bed  in  a  rusty  "dud."  A  day's 
rain  rusts  all  this  iron. 

In  my  last  letter  I  wrote  of  my  application 
for  a  commission,  which  I  sent  to  Mr.  Lane. 
I  hope  he  v/ill  sign  it  as  soon  as  he  can,  and  get 
it  back  to  me.  I  stand  quite  a  fair  show  of 
getting  my  O.C.'s  recommendation,  when  we 
are  a  short  time  in  France,  for  return  to  Eng- 
land to  an  O.T.C.  unit.  Then,  after  a  couple 
of  months,  if  all  goes  well,  I  shall  be  an  officer 
in  the  Regular  Army — subaltern  (Second- 
Lieutenant),  of  course.  Think  of  all  the 
bother  I'll  have  in  returning  privates'  salutes! 
But  it  will  be  not  so  bad,  though,  will  it?  I'm 
pretty  well  "fed  up"  with  certain  things  one 
meets  in  the  ranks.  Of  course  all  this  depends 
on  my  O.C.'s  recommending  me.  Still,  my 
chance  is  pretty  good,  I  think.    Tell  Gyles  I 


AT  "TIN  TOWN/'  LYDD  145 

may  not  be  far  behind  him!  Of  course  one 
does  have  a  much  decenter  time  wearing  a 
"Sam  Browne"  and  stars.  The  men  are  of 
your  own  class,  largely,  and  a  fine  clean  lot  on 
the  whole — and  I've  seen  no  few  officers  in  my 
nine  months'  service. 

We  shall  not  have  leave  for  three  weeks  or 
so  now,  I'm  afraid.  There  are  some  chances 
of  getting  ten  days.  It  will  probably  come 
just  before  we  go  over,  which  will  be  in  five 
weeks'  time,  under  normal  conditions. 

I'll  write  more  soon.  Write  me  whenever 
you  have  time — and  congratulate  Gyles  for 
me!    My  best  wishes  to  all. 

Yours  sincerely, 

Arthur. 

Tin  Town,  Lydd  Camp,  Lydd,  Kent 
Jf.  September,  1917 

Dear  Louise: 

.  .  .  There  are  three  divisions  to  this  camp, 
scattered  about  on  the  marsh.  They  are  named 
"Tin  Town"  (sandy),  "Wood  Town"  (san- 
dier), "Brick  Town"  (sandiest).  We  Cana- 
dians (10th  and  12th  Batteries)  and  two  Im- 
perial batteries  inhabit  Tin  Town.  Imperial 
batteries  are  entirely  filling  Wood  Town. 
Brick  Town  has  the  12th  Canadians,  some 


146  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

Imperials,  and  others.  The  town  of  Lydd, 
though  of  only  three  thousand  people,  and  less 
since  the  war,  has  a  mayor,  council,  and  bor- 
ough organisation.  It  winds  along  two  streets 
a  little  to  the  north  of  camp,  has  two  cinemas 
("movies"  in  the  U.S.),  some  few  shops,  and 
a  great  number  of  public  houses  ("saloons") 
and  sheep.  .  .  . 

To-day  I  am  a  housemaid — ahem ! — I  should 
say  butler,  likewise  man-of -all-work  (very 
little  of  which  I  have  done).  My  duties,  in 
company  with  another  blighter,  are  to  fetch 
and  distribute  the  food  to  the  men  when  they 
are  back  from  parade,  to  sweep  the  hut,  wash 
dishes  and  tables,  fetch  coal  for  the  mess- 
house,  and  so  on.  Most  of  that  comes  from 
7:30  to  10  in  the  morning;  afternoon  and  eve- 
ning are  largely  our  own.  At  this  camp  four, 
and  occasional!}^  five,  meals  a  day  are  "served," 
in  true  British  style,  but  part  of  them  are,  it 
is  true,  quite  meagi'e.    Voila: 

Early  breakfast — Tea. 

Breakfast— Porridge,  beef  ("bully")"  or 
bacon,  tea,  bread  and  margarine. 

Dinner — Beef  or  mutton  or  stew,  potatoes, 
dessert. 

Tea — Bread,  margarine,  tea,  cheese. 

Supper — Tea  and  bread. 


AT  "TIN  TOWN,"  LYDD  147 

No  true  Britisher  can  ever  do  without  his 
tea.  At  times  I  imbibe  tea  eight  times  daily: 
at  four  Army  meals;  at  lunch,  10  a.m.,  at  the 
Y.M.C.A.;  lunch,  3  p.m.,  at  Wesleyan  Sol- 
diers' Home;  lunch,  7  p.m.,  at  another  home; 
lunch,  9  p.m.,  somewhere  else.  Oh,  do  we  eat? 
It  is  really  shameless.  All  our  pay  goes  into 
tea,  buns,  sweets  ("candy"  in  U.S.)  and — 
ahem ! — beer.  But  the  latter  ever  so  rarely  for 
me.  But  you  know,  Louise,  English  beer  is 
not  as  other  beers,  being  much  more  a  gift  of 
the  gods. 

Sweets  are  becoming  awfully  hard  to  se- 
cure. Chocolate  of  any  sort  is  nearly  impos- 
sible to  get.  Toffee  is  very  rare.  All  that  is 
left  is  hard  acid  drops  and  such  child's  fare. 
But — I've  not  thanked  you  yet  for  your  never- 
to-be-forgotten  box!  It  came  at  a  most  sad 
and  depressing  time,  when  I  was  about  to  go 
up  to  my  O.C.  (for  a  false  peccadillo,  that 
didn't  happen  at  all) ,  and  the  wonders  therein 
were  as  manna  to  the  Israelities.  But  seri- 
ously— thanks  awfully,  Louise.  If  I  had 
needed  any  further  proof  of  your  cooking 
ability,  it  was  then  and  there  conclusively  dem- 
onstrated to  me.  The  package  arrived  in  good 
condition :  the  mails  do  not  get  very  hard  treat- 
ment, to  all  appearances.  .  .  .  Well,  look  at 


148  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

me !  talking  for  half  an  hour  about  my  blessed 
self,  of  course !  But  how  are  all  you  people  in 
Cantabrigia  town?  I  hear  from  several  of  you, 
but  it  is  quite  long  between  letters,  owing  to 
the  curtailed  steamer  service.  .  .  . 

There  was  an  air-raid  on  Dover  again  last 
night.  We  could  see  the  anti-aircraft  fire 
plainljr,  twenty-five  miles  off  as  it  is.  There 
was  a  full  moon,  almost,  and  everj^thing  was 
very  brilliant.  Later,  while  the  chaps  in  our 
hut  were  waiting  for  midnight,  to  go  out  on 
a  digging  scheme  for  the  gims,  and  were  play- 
ing cards  with  the  lights  lit,  "Sergeant  dear" 
suddenly  ran  in  and  gave  the  word,  "Lights 
Out!"  Then  there  became  more  and  more 
audible  a  grinding,  pulsing  humming.  At  the 
windows  we  looked  up  into  the  stars  and 
moonlight,  while  Fritz  came  over,  his  battle- 
planes very  high  up,  speeding  back  home  by 
the  Etaples-Boulogne  route.  Nothing  was 
dropped,  and  ten  minutes  later  the  men  went 
out  to  dig,  while  I,  as  hut  orderly,  turned  in 
to  the  sleep  of  the  weary.  I  went  through 
Fritz's  hot  show  at  Folkestone,  which  you  may 
have  read  of  in  the  papers.  I  missed  mine  by 
thirty  yards  that  evening.  Very  interesting, 
and  mildly  exciting,  it  was,  'pon  my  word. 


AT  "TIN  TOWN/'  LYDD  149 

I  must  cease  this  for  now,  Louise,  as  "din- 
ner up"  is  about  to  be  yelled,  and  that  means 
work — a  little,  anyway.  .  .  . 

Yours,  as  ever, 

Arthur  A.  Stanley. 

"Tin  Town,"  Lydd,  Kent 
10th  Can.  Siege  Bty.,  C.G.A. 
6th  Siege  Bty.  Section 
5  September,  1917 

Dear  C.  M.  S.: 

Coming  here  from  Bexhill  a  week  and  a  half 
ago,  we  passed  Winchelsea  and  Rye  on  their 
walled  hills  in  Rother  Levels,  peaceful  and 
very  old  in  the  sunlight — Rye  with  its  red  tile 
roofs,  Winchelsea  shrouded  by  elms — the 
Roman  road  leading  to  both  crossing  Rother, 
Tillingham,  and  Brede.  The  look  of  them  in 
the  blue  and  white  setting  of  sky,  the  white 
ribbon  of  road  leading  straight  thither,  reminds 
me  strongly  of  Parrish's  fine  drawings — the 
"Dinkey  Bird"  magic,  and  the  "Roman  Road" 
drawing  (from  Kenneth  Grahame),  striking 
in  its  likeness. 

We  leave  here  for  mobilisation,  and  France, 
within  a  month.  But  in  a  sense  I  am  like 
Parnesius  of  the  "XXX  Ulpia  Victrix"— "a 
probationer  waiting  for  a  cohort."  An  the 
Fates  be  kind,  I  return  ere  long  to  England 


150  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

for  a  British  subaltern's  commission — R.G.A., 
or,  maybe,  Lancers. 

But  I  have  not  heard  from  you  for  a  long 
time.    I  hope  you  will  not  forget  me. 
Yours,  as  ever, 

Arthur  A.  Stanley, 
No.  343939. 

P.S.: — Luck  to  your  coming  year — ^will  it 
be  in  Hanover? 


CHAPTER  VII 

THROUGH  LONDON  TO  CODFORD 

A  Rest-Camp  in  Wiltshire — Glimpses  of  London:  Char- 
ing Cross,  the  Strand,  Trafalgar  Square — Types  in 
Camp — A  Walk  to  Stonehenge — America's  Part  in 
the  War:    "Don't  Drivel  and  Sentimentalise" 

10th  Canadians,  C.G.A. 
Camp  No.  15,  Codford,  Wilts 
September  20,  1917 

Dear  Mr.  Stearns— "C.  M.  S.": 

I  write  this  on  the  slope  of  a  windy,  muddy- 
down  that  flanks  Salisbury  Plain  on  the  south- 
west; fifteen  miles  southeast  lies  Salisbury, 
in  Avon  valley — not  the  same  Avon  of  War- 
wicks  and  the  Bard,  but  none  the  less  a  pretty 
one.  Stonehenge  is,  accordingly,  perhaps  ten 
miles  east. 

We  came  here  yesterday  from  Paddington 
(and  Lydd)  by  a  slow  afternoon  train  on  the 
G.W.'s  Bath  line— by  Eton,  Reading,  New- 
bury, Devizes — then  south,  ten  miles  out  of 
Bath,  through  western  Wiltshire,  Trowbridge, 
Heytesbury — to  this  rest-camp  that  shelters 

151 


152  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

— ,  — ,  — ,  and  — ;  Anzac,  Australian,  Impe- 
rial, and  now  Canadian.  The  Canadians 
tramped  the  ooze  of  the  Plains  in  the  winter 
of  '14-15,  and  now  again: 

"Gorblimy,  Alf,  the  bloody  Canidians  is 
'ere!" 

And  now  to  return  to  yesterday.  Out  of  the 
windy  drizzling  Marsh  we  came  on  the  little 
branch  line  to  Appledore  and  Ashford,  then 
turning  westerly  into  the  fair  green  hop-fields, 
well-maimed  by  the  journeying  coster-folk  and 
ruddy  "N.S."  girls  in  brown  smock,  jackboots 
and  khaki  riding  breeches.  "Cheerio!"  they 
waved  from  the  fields,  for  we,  leaning  from 
the  carriages,  stood  for  returned  men,  and  all 
England  knows  and  sympathises  with  the 
Back  to  Blighty  ecstasy. 

At  Tonbridge  we  went  north,  into  the  long 
Sevenoaks  tunnel — then  Orpington,  Bromley 
— ever  faster.  Then  the  streets  and  houses 
began — streets,  chimney  pots,  spires,  and 
smoke — everj^where  to  both  horizons:  and  we 
journeyed  so  for  seeming  ages — New  Cross 
passed — slowing  now:  more  churches,  grey 
stone  everywhere:  Waterloo  Junction  halted 
us  a  time,  then  on  again!  We  had  traversed, 
unknowing,  Bermondsey's  fetid  alleys,  the 
Borough  High  Street  (the  "George,"  "Tab- 


THROUGH  LONDON  TO  CODFORD       153 

ard,"  Guy's  Hospital,  Lant  Street  of  the  im- 
mortal "Papers"!),  Blackfriars  Road.  Now 
over  Waterloo  Road! — ah,  God!  what  would 
it  be  like?  A  hasty  arrangement  of  impres- 
sions flashed  through  my  mind,  chasing  each 
other  out,  hazy,  indistinct ;  the  carriage  seemed 
to  crawl  at  snail's  pace.  The  majestic  River 
I  pictured  on  the  retina  of  my  brain — "Be- 
tween South wark  Bridge  that  is  of  iron,  and 
London  Bridge  of  stone"  jumped  over  my 
ideas,  out  of  "Mutual  Friend,"  why,  I  cannot 
say.  It  would  be  wonderful,  I  decided,  hav- 
ing ceased  trying  to  order  it  up  for  my  senses 
— I  had  allowed  too  little  time  to  think  it 
over.  Then,  slowly  gliding,  we  slid  upon  the 
end  of  Charing  +  Bridge. 

There  it  was!  A  maelstrom  coursed  up, 
changing  all  my  preconceptions — the  River! 
So  narrow,  was  my  thought — a  stone's  throw 
seemed  it  to  Waterloo  Bridge.  How  dwarfed 
the  stream  seemed  from  this  height!  Then 
quickly  I  picked  out  objects:  "Hotel  Cecil" 
fronted  squarely,  dark  grey  and  black.  The 
sun  had  struggled  through,  and  it  was  glori- 
ous. The  Savoy  next  it,  of  course:  the  long 
green  embankment — and  the  trams  moving  up 
and  down.  I  flashed  my  eyes  upstream,  and 
caught  the  Houses,  the  War  Office  turrets. 


154  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

Then  it  blotted  out,  and  back  I  searched. 
Metropole  there,  tall  on  the  left.  A  glance 
down  Northumberland  Avenue,  a  final  endur- 
ing impression  of  square,  massive,  grey  build- 
ings, firm  bridges,  green  trees,  and  the  dirty 
dear  old  River — this,  the  centre  of  "this  be- 
hemoth, this  leviathan  monster  London!" 

We  slithered  neatly  into  the  yards;  then 
overhead  we  saw  the  opaque  glass  of  the  Sta- 
tion: porters,  girls  mostly,  bustling  about — 
luggage,  and  some  non-khaki  people.  We 
alighted  at  once:  formed  up,  and  marched  on 
to  the  main  hall.  "At  Charing  Cross  or  Port 
Said  you  will  meet  every  one  in  this  wide  world 
if  you  wait  long  enough!"  (Kipling,  wasn't 
it  ? )  Then  out  towards  the  street :  khaki  every- 
where, all  manner  of  it;  the  little  red,  green, 
and  black  divisional  cards  on  the  sleeves; 
the  jacketed,  squatty  little  Enfields  on  kit- 
loaded,  muddied  shoulders;  caps  askew;  and 
the  dull  broMn  of  the  tin-hats  strapped  to  the 
back!  Blighty,  for  them!  after  eeons  of  as- 
sorted hell.  But  the  predominating  note  to 
me  was  "Cheero!"  "Light  a  fag!"  "To-mor- 
row we'll  bash  Bill  Kaiser!"  And  into  that 
world-renowned  highway  we  swung,  whistling 
as  in  happy  times  of  yester-year: 


THROUGH  LONDON  TO  CODFORD       155 

"C/p  to  mighty  Lunnon  came  an  Irishman  one  day; 
There  the  streets  was  paved  with  gold  and  everyone 
was  gay — " 

and  to  complete  it — ^here,  the  trams,  'buses, 
taxis,  hurrying  civihans,  and  khaki,  always 
khaki — the  Strand! 

My  eyes  darted  right — the  Adelphi,  yes, 
far  down ;  behind  it  I  knew  were  Covent  Gar- 
den, Maiden  Lane,  and  old  Drury.'  Board- 
ings, significantly  new,  covered  corners  of  two 
buildings :  the  Hun  had  come  to  "mighty  Lon- 
don"— not  long  since — but  that  thought  was 
chased  gaily  away  by  our  wheeling  left  of 
course.  The  Grand  ahead,  high  and  dark! 
Then,  behind  a  big  'bus,  a  lion  couchant,  black- 
grey  !  Whistling  and  swaying  we  went ;  people 
laughing;  a  kid  messenger's  pill-box  oscillating 
as  he  chewed  something;  "Canidians,  w^ot  'o!": 
then  I  felt  the  imposing  triumphal  arch  of  the 
New  Admiralty  over  against  me,  tall,  square, 
and  grey — the  JMall  beyond,  yes — and  we 
swung  into  the  Square. 

Nelson  has  a  high,  bold  warder — ^well, 
Trafalgar! — he  saved  England  jolly  well 
enough!  The  National  Gallery  shuts  the 
northern  view.  Ah,  there  to  the  left,  a  flash 
of  Whitehall !    And  opposite,  Cockspur  Street 


156  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

leads  to  Pall  JMall.  St.  Martin's-in-the-Fields, 
this  would  be — Brimstone  Corner  and  Fan- 
euil  Hall  in  one,  but  three  thousand  miles! 
Khaki,  people,  people,  dogs,  bicycles,  an  ad- 
miral, tall  constables, — and  we  plunge  into 
Bakerloo  Tube  entrance.  Two  flights  down, 
a  lift,  down  again !  A  Paddington  train  soon 
rolls  in;  and  by  Piccadilly  Circus  halt  I  have 
re-assembled  my  vagrant  fancies  a  little.  Yes, 
it  was  wonderful,  and  sad,  and  gay — London 
is  all  that.  It  all  was  passed  and  indelibly 
recorded  in  five  minutes — that  I  shall  not  soon 
forget. 

Here  we  remain  for  two  weeks,  resting ;  then 
over.  I  hope  I  may  hear  from  you  some  time, 
my  friend,  with  news  of  all  that  other  matter, 
the  Republic  of  the  West — now  leaguing  with 
Albion,  the  which — Albion — is  the  fairest, 
dearest  land  under  heaven,  my  friend. 
Cheerio ! 

With  best  wishes  and  good  luck. 
Yours,  as  ever, 

Akthur  a.  Stanley, 
No.  343939. 


THROUGH  LONDON  TO  CODFORD       157 

Camp  No.  15,  Codford,  Wilts 
September  20,  1917 

Deae  Syd: 

.  .  .  The  types  here!  Everything  and 
everyone  from  all  over  this  little  world.  In 
the  Congregational  Home  last  night,  at  the 
coffee  bar  I  was  getting  tea  and  buns,  when 
a  Padre  standing  next  me  spoke.  We  got  to 
talking.  He  was  an  Imperial  black-crossed 
chaplain.  Then,  "a  Canadian!"  he  ejaculates, 
and  it  developed  I  was  practically  the  first  he 
had  met  since  Ypres  '15-16.  He  worked  there 
at  sky-piloting  with  them  and  the  Imperials 
also.  He  spoke  English  with  a  peculiar  ac- 
cent, and,  as  he  informed  me,  hailed  from  New 
Guinea — a  missionary,  I  suppose. 

Another:  a  ship-owner,  private  of  Austra- 
lian Infantry,  born  in  Glasgow,  raised  in  Liv- 
erpool and  Birkenhead,  emigrated  to  Canada, 
lived  in  'Frisco,  in  the  Klondike  in  '98,  sailed 
to  East  and  West  Africa,  a  certificated  pilot 
on  the  Irawaddy  "from  Rangoon  to  Manda- 
lay,"  retired  to  ship-lading  in  Sydney,  for- 
merly Sergeant-Ma j or  in  Australians,  relin- 
quished it  for  R.N.  commission  which  failed: 
preferably  would  live  in  Burmah.  And  the 
hosts  of  others.  Verily,  verily,  this  earth  holds 
all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men.  .  .  . 

Yours,  as  ever,     Art. 


158  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 


6th  Siege  Section 
10th  Can.  Siege  Bty.,  C.G.A. 
Codford,  Wilts 
September  26,  1917 

Dear  Father: 

We  continue  to  "rest"  here.  I  am  reading 
"Pendennis"  and  "Barnaby  Rudge."  We 
arise  at  7:30,  breakfast;  parade,  usually  for 
only  half-an-hour,  at  8:30;  dinner,  12:30;  pa- 
rade, 2  p.m.  (usually  omitted)  ;  tea,  5  p.m. 
This  afternoon  the  men  played  the  officers  at 
baseball,  and  all  the  Imperials  turned  out  to 
watch  the  hloomin'  gime.  "It's  not  cricket, 
you  know !"  I  played  left  field,  and  was  struck 
out  by  a  lanky  lieutenant. 

Last  Sunday  another  chap  (Land  Office, 
Ottawa)  and  I  walked  over  the  rolling  green 
Plain  on  a  Roman  road,  past  the  ancient  Brit- 
ish earthwork,  Yadbury  Castle,  through  Win- 
terbourne  Stoke,  to  Stonehenge.  Quite  a  lit- 
tle sight,  indeed.  It  is  most  imposing  when 
you  are  within  it.  The  equinox  had  just 
passed,  and  the  sun  must  have  risen  nearly  due 
east,  over  one  of  the  stones  without,  that  gauge 
the  seasonal  movement  of  the  sun.  There  was 
quite  a  crowd  there — Anzacs,  Australians, 
civilians,  and  a  U.S.  medical  officer,  appar- 
ently a  Hebrew.     Soldiers  were  admitted  for 


THROUGH  LONDON  TO  CODFORD       159 

threepence,  but  common  people  were  taxed  a 
shilling.  Later  we  walked  into  Amesbury, 
and  had  a  very  good  supper  at  the  New  Inn. 
We  walked  back  in  the  evening  by  moonlight. 
We  covered  twenty-five  or  thirty  miles  that 
day. 

I  go  on  my  much-deferred  leave  in  two  or 
three  days.  I  probably  go  via  Salisbury — a 
chance  to  see  the  Cathedral, — Reading,  to 
Paddington,  then  out  of  it  to  Stratford,  stop- 
ping a  time  in  Oxford  on  return,  and  three 
days  in  London.  I  may  stay  at  the  "Ameri- 
can Eagle"  Hut,  for  soldiers,  Aldwych,  Strand 
— where  I  can  get  some  of  that  nectar  called 
ice-cream  soda. 

It  is  wet  to-day,  and  the  little  village  fully 
justifies  its  name — nom  de  guerre — "Codford- 
in-the-Mud."  There  are  good  roads,  though, 
as  everywhere  in  England.  .  .  . 

Yours,  as  ever, 

Arthur. 

6th  Siege  Section 
10th  Can.  Siege  Bty.,  C.G.A. 
Cod  ford,  Wilts 
September  26,  1917 

Dear  Francis: 

...  I  was  mightily  interested  in  your  clip- 
pings.   "Massachusetts  does  not  realise  fully. 


160  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

completely,  that  this  nation  is  at  war!"  Oh, 
journalist  bombastic,  yon  are  right.  I'll  tell 
you,  in  a  whisper,  England  only  learned  that 
she  was  at  war  May  25  last — after  three  years : 
after  Folkestone.  And  your  States,  O  scrib- 
bler, should  learn  it  in  four  months,  or  five! 
And  that  "A  sobbing  kiss,  a  tightening  of  the 
arms,  tears  alike  of" — brave  warrior  and  heroic 
lass,  probably.  Rotten  form,  you  know — ^be- 
fore they  even  smell  training  camp  mud.  Here 
in  England,  across  her  narrow  seas  from 
Flanders,  in  raid  and  desolation  and  death — 
that  I  have  seen, — I  have  never  yet  beheld  a 
woman  weep,  only  that  nursing  mother  in 
Folkestone  accursed,  with  her  breasts  torn  off, 
moaning.  The  best  thing  for  America,  always 
hysterical  and  loving  show  of  hackneyed  emo- 
tions, is  to  follow  the  example  of  Britain's 
tight-lipped  unconcern  in  hundred-fold  worse 
adversity.  Don't  drivel  and  sentimentalise: 
besides  being  childish,  it  doesn't  beat  the  Hun. 
I  hope  I've  not  said  too  much;  but,  Francis, 
I  have  so  much  admiration  for  the  way  this 
England  of  ours  is  carrying  on,  that  I'm  a  bit 
intolerant,  perhaps.  America  will  learn — the 
pity  that  she  will  have  to! — but  Fritz  can't 
win,  you  know!    We're  going  over  in  a  few 


THROUGH  LONDON  TO  CODFORD       l6t 

weeks  to  attend  to  that,  or  do  our  bit,  any- 
how! .  .  . 

When  the  address  is  "France,"  I'll  let  you 
know.  Confidentially,  it  may  be  "Italy"  or 
"Palestine,"  but  that  is  as  we  shall  see. 

Yours,  as  ever, 

Arthur. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

OXFORD  IN  WAR  TIME 

A  Morning  at  Stratford — The  Harvard  House — The 
Shakespeare  Tercentenary  Programme  of  the  Cele- 
bration at  Ruhleben — An  Afternoon  at  Oxford — 
Balliol's  Five  Sheets  of  Names  in  the  Lodge  Entry: 
FRATER,  AVE  ATQUE  VALE 

Harris's  Hotel,  George  Street,  Oxford 
September  29,  1917 
11:30  p.  m. 

Dear  C.  M.  S.: 

This  morning  very  early  I  alighted  in  the 
cold  in  Stratford-upon-Avon.  Finding  no 
shelter  at  the  ungodly  hour  of  five,  I  repaired 
to  the  Great- Western  station,  and  slept  two 
hours  in  a  first-class  compartment  on  the  sid- 
ing.   Later  I  sallied  forth. 

I  breakfasted  next  Washington  Irving's 
inn,  the  "Red  Horse";  visited  the  buildings  in 
Chapel  and  Church  Streets;  Holy  Trinity 
Church,  the  tomb  by  the  altar,  the  God's-acre, 
and  the  still  Avon,  with  the  Memorial  stand- 
ing as  testimony.     Everything  in  Stratford 

162 


OXFORD  IN  WAR  TIME  163 

breathes  Shakespeare,  is  Shakespeare:  Guild- 
hall, Chapel,  Church,  Memorial,  Birthplace, 
and  shops. 

It  was  very  peaceful  this  morning.  I  went 
into  the  Harvard  House  then,  and  at  the  con- 
cierge's tender  of  the  sixpenny  ticket,  I  in- 
formed her  that  I  entered  free  there — where- 
upon she  gladly  showed  me  the  handsome  old 
house.  She  fetched  the  visitors'  book,  with  the 
dear  old  seal  on  it,  and  I  signed — the  book  of 
Harvard  men  who  have  visited  that  place,  the 
home  of  John  Harvard's  mother,  Katherine 
Rogers,  who  married  Robert  Harvard  of 
Southwark.  The  book  begins  with  Whitelaw 
Reid's  autograph,  and  contains  a  fine  list  of 
representative  Harvard  men — Bliss  Perry, 
"A.  Lawrence  Lowell,"  Henry  Hildebrand, 
C.  Hidden  Page,  Herbert  M.  Sears  (Boston), 
F.  W.  Taussig,  Bancroft  (Boston),  Albert 
Bushnell  Hart,  the  Roosevelts,  '62  to  '19,  the 
senior  W.  T.  Brigham,  the  junior,  and — ^your 
obedient  humble.  On  nearly  every  page  stood 
the  name  of  some  man  I  knew,  had  been  taught 
by,  or  "representative"  Harvard  man.  It  was 
a  bit  of  a  link  with  the  old  college,  wasn't  it? 
I  visited  the  Birthplace,  and  was  guided  by 
the  woman-in-charge,  who  explained  exhaust- 
ively.    With  me  were  a  small  party  of  that 


164>  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

peculiar  genus,  ^Anglcdse  continentale :  a  mid- 
dle-aged woman,  a  nice  old  French  lady  with 
an  exquisite  accent,  three  boarding-school 
misses  of  varying  age.  They  all  spoke  French 
and  German  proficiently,  by  turns.  The  first- 
named  a  month  ago  lived  interned  in  Weimar, 
had  visited  Florence  two  weeks  ago,  and  now 
was  at  Stratford,  as  she  said  with  a  faint  smile 
of  pride,  at  knowing  the  locales  of  the  three 
Immortals'  homes.  (The  oldest  and  rather  at- 
tractive miss  spoke  animated  French  with  the 
old  lady,  and  in  the  gaps  laughing  German 
with  me.) 

It  was  all  very  interesting  and  informative 
at  the  Birthplace,  and  the  Birth-Room  has  a 
bit  of  a  charm,  in  spite  of  the  doubtful  au- 
thenticity of  some  of  it.  But  I  gleaned  one 
thing  of  gold  from  the  hodge-podge  of  theory 
and  conjecture:  on  the  wall  is  framed  one  of 
the  very  few  extant  copies  of  the  Shakespeare 
Tercentenary  programme  of  the  celebration  at 
Huhleben,  by  the  British  interned: 

"Shall  it  for  shame  be^  spoken  in  these  days, 
Or  fill  up  chronicles  in  time  to  come, 
That  men  of  your  nobility  and  power  .  .  .*' 

Henry  IV,  Part  I. 


OXFORD  IN  WAR  TIME  l65 

"This  festival  is  offered  to  the  subjects  of  the  British 
Empire  interned  at  Ruhleben,  as  a  Tercentenary 
commemoration  that  cannot  be  without  special 
significance  to  all  who  reverence  the  ideals  that 
spring  from  English  soU  and  live  in  the  English 
tongue," 

A  strange  commentary  on  a  race  that  wrote 
the  "Hassgesang"  and  yet  meekly  permitted 
that  superb  defiance  of  German  shameless- 
ness!  .  .  . 

I  shall  never  forget  Stratford — but  I  can- 
not write  about  it,  nor  will  I  add  any  jot  to  the 
too  large  heaping  of  too  petty  praise.  St. 
Peter's  effigy  must  sicken  at  the  hosts  of  me- 
chanical caressers  of  his  toe. 

I  came  to  Oxford  this  afternoon,  via  Leam- 
ington: hansomed  it  up  the  hill,  into  Corn- 
market,  and  halted  by  that  ancient  inn  the 
"Roebuck,"  opposite  the  "Clarendon"  (known 
to  Thackeray  and  his  times  as  the  "Star"). 
Then  I  hunted  me  out  this  little  place  near 
the  canal,  and  set  out. 

Up  to  the  Broad  Street  I  went,  where  the 
O.T.C.  chaps  with  white  cap-bands  sauntered 
with  their  misses.  There  was  Balliol,  and 
Trinity  gates,  the  Sheldonian  projecting  into 
the  road,  and  classic  Clarendon  beyond.  I  en- 
tered the  bookshops,  and  now  I  have  a  Pope's 


166  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

I- VI  "uEneidos,"  noted  and  cribbed  in  black- 
lead,  from  Hubert  Giles,  opposite  Balliol,  as 
well  as  Brooke's  "Primer"  (the  immortal 
Stop  ford),  which  I'd  made  poor  shift  without 
for  months. 

I  dined  in  Cornmarket,  and  by  the  time  I 
had  finished  it  was  dark,  the  moon  rising  as  I 
reached  the  Carfax  and  turned  into  The  High: 
All  Saints',  Brasenose  New  Buildings,  Univer- 
sity opposite  diagonally,  with  St.  Mary's  pin- 
nacles blue  in  the  soft  light.  I  turned  north 
into  Radcliffe  Square,  and  there,  deep  in 
shadow  and  bright  in  the  light,  St.  Mary's, 
All  Souls  chapel  below  the  moon,  the  Camera, 
sturdy  Brasenose  front,  the  Bodley,  and  Hert- 
ford, still  and  exquisite.  There  is  a  thrill  to 
that  view,  seen  thus — as  the  Ponte  Vecchio, 
the  Colosseum  by  moonlight,  even  as  Memorial 
and  the  light  on  the  elms  in  the  Yard.  And 
so  on  down  the  wonderful  High — Queen's, 
Examination  Halls,  the  Botanic,  and  Mag- 
dalen Tower  above  her  great  houses.  Some 
punts  were  out  on  the  Cherwell. 

I  turned  back  into  JNIerton  Street,  past  Mr. 
Rudd's  college,  to  Corpus  Christi,  where  I  en- 
tered the  porter's  lodge,  and  soon  was  learn- 
ing from  the  genial  old  fellow  of  fifteen  years' 
standing,  of  scholars,  commoners,  and  dons,  of 


OXFORD  IN  WAR  TIME  167 

terms  and  term-bills,  beating  the  buttery,  nine- 
o'clock  bells,  fines,  the  terrible  midnight  guinea 
and  principal's  hidings,  responsions,  mods, 
honours  and  greats,  Litterm',  ploughing,  and 
what  not  all. 

I  shall  only  attempt  to  write  bits  of  the 
great  ensemble  that  I  saw — you  would  doubt- 
less weary  of  first  impressions,  remembering 
your  own. 

American  Y.M.C.A.,  Aldwtfch 
Strand,  W.C. 

October  1,  1917 

Sunday,  the  next  day,  I  arose  and  went  upon 
the  town  about  ten — into  Balliol,  Chapel, 
Hall,  and  quad:  O.  T.  C.  have  it  now.  One 
thing  was  very  good,  out  of  the  ruck  of  this 
rotten  show,  the  War:  Balliol's  five  sheets  of 
names  in  the  lodge  entry,  that  begin  with 

Lord  ;  Grenadier  Guards,  4  September, 

1914 — headed  in  black,  with  the  arms  between, 
FRATER,  AVE  ATQVE  VALE.  Shorn 
of  any  maudhn  mockery  of  sentiment  and  driv- 
el, Balliol's  memorial  to  her  dead  rings  out 
superb  and  virile.  I  would  like  to  have  that 
alone  said  of  me,  in  like  case. 

I  saw  nearly  all  the  colleges  that  day — a 
long  day  of  interest  and  fine  beauty:  Jesus, 


168  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

Exeter,  and  Lincoln  in  the  Turl;  Indian  In- 
stitute, Wadham,  Keble;  Holywell  of  dons' 
houses;  St.  Peter's-in-the-East,  Queen's,  and 
Magdalen,  the  most  beautiful  single  place  in 
the  University,  probably;  the  deer  and  the 
flower-breathed  Water  Walks;  Merton's  fine 
Hall,  the  Mob  Quadrangle,  the  Fellows* 
Quad;  Brasenose,  where  I  talked  with  the  por- 
ter, learned  much,  and  visited  the  delightful 
Principal,  Dr.  Heverford,  and  discovered  my 
chances  relative  to  taking  up  residence  as  a 
Commoner,  "apres  .  .  ." ;  that,  lacking  Greek, 
I  must  take  Responsions,  meaning  three  years 
at  least,  the  ordinary  time — unless — what? 
But  this  last  is  only  one  of  my  dreams. 

At  the  day's  end  I  reached  Christ  Church, 
the  incomparable  quad.,  the  old  Cathedral, 
Chapter  House — and  the  long  list  of  great 
undergraduates  and  fellows.  It  was  too  bad 
that  dusk  and  closing  time  came  so  soon.  I 
walked  down  to  the  illustrious  Isis  in  the  twi- 
light. ...  At  8:45  my  train  left  the  Great- 
Western  for  Paddington,  and  made  a  poor 
journey  of  two  hours  and  a  half. 

I  have  not  told  a  tenth  of  what  I  saw  and 
felt  in  that  Oxford,  of  which  there  is  only  one. 
I  realise,  I  think,  its  immense  advantages  over 
American    universities — and    its    narrowness 


OXFORD  IN  WAR  TIME  l69 

and  shortcomings.  But  it  is  really  very  won- 
derful to  me,  and  some  day  I  hope  to  wear  a 
gown  there. 

Last  Term  went  down  in  early  June,  and 
Fall  Term  comes  up  the  11th.  Nearly  all  the 
colleges  are  hospitals  or  O.T.C.'s.  Merton  is 
a  hospital,  and  begins  with  six  residents; 
"Corps"  has  twelve,  Brasenose  fifteen.  And 
before  I  pass  on  to  London — that  exquisite 
delicate  Reynolds  window  in  New  Chapel — 
you  know  it? — the  Babe  above,  with  shepherds 
and  Magi  adoring,  and  the  pure  slim  figures 
of  the  Graces  below — all  against  the  afternoon 
sun. 


CHAPTER  IX 

LONDON  DURING  AN  AIR  RAID 

The  Eagle  Hut — Belgravia;  Rotten  Row;  Mayfair — 
Over  London  Bridge  to  Southvrark — Under  Shrap- 
nel in  Temple  Gardens — A  Night  of  Experience 

[Letter  of  October  1,  continued] 

London.  Paddington  and  misty  Praed- 
Street — "all  clear"  had  gone  an  hour  before. 
I  tubed  via  Bakerloo  to  Trafalgar  Square,  and 
'bused  it  to  Aldwych.  Here  in  the  Eagle  Hut 
one  finds  queer  mixtures:  a  number  of  Amer- 
ican jacks,  some  Engineers  and  Aviation 
Corps  (Signal)  among  the  privates  from  your 
side;  American  pilots  (what  sensational  Amer- 
ican newspapers  idiotically  term  "birdmen") 
of  the  French  service,  in  a  queer  uniform — 
they  enlisted  before  the  States  entered;  U.S. 
Medical  Reserve  officers,  Canadians,  Anzacs, 
South  African  negroes  and  whites,  Austra- 
lians, a  few  stray  Imperials.  The  hut  is  run 
by  American  Y.IM.C.A.   workers,  many  of 

\n 


LONDON  DURING  AN  AIR  RAID         171 

whom  came  over  for  the  express  purpose. 
They  have  nearly  two  hundred  beds,  excellent 
food  accommodations,  reading  rooms,  et  cet- 
era,  and  an  ice-cream  bar,  with  occasional  soda! 

Yesterday  morning  I  'bused  to  Victoria,  and 
then  set  out  by  shanks'  mare:  by  the  Royal 
Mews  into  Belgravia,  and  Hyde  Park  Cor- 
ner; down  Constitution  Hill  to  the  Palace,  and 
witnessed  the  Coldstream  Guard  change  there ; 
through  Green  Park  to  "Picca-picca-dilly"  by 
Half -Moon  Street,  turning  westward  and  ar- 
riving in  due  course  at  the  Corner  again. 
Within  I  made  at  once  for  Rotten  Row.  A 
number  of  the  fine  old  riders  that  frequent 
this  great  course  were  out,  as  well  as  officers, 
misses  seul  and  avec.  Astride  and  side-saddle 
divided  about  evenly.  I  walked  to  the  end  at 
Kensington  Gardens.  There  was  a  fine  race 
of  a  splendid  girl  rider  and  her  escort,  a 
Lancers  officer.  She  beat  him,  very  likely  at 
his  wish.  So  through  the  Gardens,  to  Ken- 
sington Palace,  back  over  the  Serpentine  to 
Marble  Arch  and  infamous  Tyburn  Tree. 
Hyde  Park  is  surely  top-hole — better  than 
any  for  beauty  and  quiet  and  orderliness. 

Then  down  Park  Lane  of  the  marquises  and 
earls  into  Brook  Street  and  Grosvenor  Square, 
which  I  circled    (or  "squared").      Wounded 


172  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

are  in  several  houses.  In  one,  near  Bulwer- 
Lytton's,  a  lady  in  black  was  attending  to  the 
needs  of  a  roomful  of  privates,  and  sitting  on 
the  bed  of  one.  There  was  a  fine  smile  on  her 
face:  human  kindliness  and  feeling  may  be 
found,  even  in  Mayfair  and  Grosvenor  Square, 
in  this  war  time.  Mount  Street,  "Barkley" 
Square,  Lansdowne  passage  to  Curzon  Street, 
where  lives  the  inimitable  Eve  of  the  Tatler, 
I  think.  The  "Letters  of  Eve"  are  a  London 
institution.  So  to  Piccadilly  again;  St.  James 
Street,  by  the  clubs,  to  the  Palace;  east  down 
Pall  Mall,  into  St.  James  Square,  back,  and 
by  Cockspur  Street  to  the  Nelson  Monument. 
Last  night  I  went  again  into  the  City;  to 
Mansion  House  by  'bus,  then  walked  down  to 
London  Bridge.  The  old  structure  was 
packed  with  people  hurrying  homeward  to 
Bermondsey  and  TsTewington.  A  great  view 
into  the  Pool  by  misty  moonlight,  is  it  not? 
So  I  gained  the  Borough  side.  A  service  for 
the  soldiers  was  going  on  in  the  yard  of  South- 
wark  Cathedral  (which  saw  John  Harvard's 
baptism — son  of  Robert  Harvard  of  South- 
wark).  Up  the  ancient  High  Street,  that  is 
older  than  Roman  Britain.  I  bought  Skeat*s 
text  of  the  "Tales"  of  Scrivener  Dan  at  the 
Tabard  Bookshop :  that  will  be  pleasant  to  re- 


LONDON  DURING  AN  AIR  RAID         173 

member  in  the  aftermath,  will  it  not?  The 
"Tabard"  and  "Half-Moon"  inns  are  on  the 
left.  Just  below  the  Tabard  I  entered  the 
yard  of  "George"  inn,  one  of  the  oldest  in 
Southwark,  with  its  fine  wooden  double  gal- 
leries and  coffee-room  with  the  stalls  of  by- 
gone years.  On  the  wall  was  a  drawing  of  it 
by  F.  Hopkinson  Smith,  done  in  charcoal. 
Then  south  again  to  Lant  Street,  and  to  No. 
46,  where  the  genial  tenant,  an  old  Life- 
Guardsman,  showed  me  the  house  and  rooms, 
the  very  place  where  Mr.  Pickwick  visited  Bob 
Sawyer  and  his  comrade,  when  they  were  train- 
ing to  be  "sawbones  at  Guy's.'* 

Southwark  Street  took  me  westward.  It 
was  half -past  seven,  and  the  moon  up.  The 
constables  came  about  with  their  two  whistle- 
blasts  then.  "Take  cover!"  ...  I  walked  on 
to  Southwark  Bridge.  The  streets  here  and 
in  the  City  emptied  very  quickly.  It  was  still, 
save  for  hurrying  feet  occasionally,  and  the 
two  whistles,  monotonous.  In  the  City  I 
reached  St.  Paul's  and  turned  west,  walking 
with  an  Australian  subaltern,  who  was  rather 
the  worse  for  "Johnny  Walker."  No  one  else 
on  the  streets.  Probably  this  is  the  first  time 
since  the  Plague,  if  then,  that  London  streets 
were  deserted  at  7:30  p.m.    We  turned  north 


174  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

for  Holborn.  Soon  the  guns  began,  West 
Ham  way,  and  I  ducked  under  The  Daily 
Sketch.  The  staff  and  a  few  women  only  were 
there. 

After  half  an  hour  the  shrapnel  had  stopped 
falling  (from  our  own  guns,  you  know),  and 
I  crossed  into  Shoe  Lane,  emerging  on  Fleet 
Street,  and  walking  east.  I  entered  Middle 
Temple,  rounded  Hart  Court  and  Lamb 
Court,  turning  to  Fountain  Court  ("Chuzzle- 
wit" — Ruth  Pinch?)  and  Garden  Court,  Tem- 
ple Gardens,  where  still  grow  the  White  and 
Red  Roses  of  Tudor  days.  A  miss  stood  in 
Garden  Court  entry,  looking  up,  and  much 
perturbed.  The  guns  were  popping  in  the 
southeast.  The  moon  shone  over  the  beauti- 
ful flowers  and  lawns,  with  the  Embankment 
trees  at  the  bottom,  and  Hall  twenty  yards 
east.  The  guns  started  up  in  the  northeast 
again;  and  I  calmed  the  poor  thing  a  little. 
I  thought  she  would  faint  once,  but  as  a  whole 
the  British  women  are  very  self-possessed  and 
brave.  She  asked  if  I  had  chambers,  "sir," 
and  I  denied  it,  though  I  might  come  here 
some  time.  She  was  very  nice  to — ah — con- 
sole, 'pon  my  word :  a  good  little  young  woman. 
She  went  in  to  her  mother,  a  laundress,  I  sup- 
pose, and  I  crossed  back  to  Fountain  Court. 


LONDON  DURING  AN  AIR  RAID         175 

With  a  whoop  and  blare  the  river  monitors 
and  6-inch  began,  three  hundred  yards  off.  I 
raised  my  eyebrows,  but  when  the  shrapnel 
whizzed  and  ricochetted  in  the  court  I  deemed 
it  wise  to  double.  To  6  ]\Iiddle  Temple  I 
went,  and  down  to  their  cellar,  where  a  num- 
ber of  charwomen  and  caretakers  were  sitting. 
Just  in  time.  I  talked  for  half  an  hour  with 
the  old  head-porter  of  Middle  Temple,  a 
Lancers  S.M.  of  thirty  years'  service,  Kabul, 
Northern  Frontier,  Irish  and  South  Africa; 
one  of  R.  K.'s  own  chaps,  since  he  was  corre- 
spondent to  that  expeditionary  force.  He  told 
of  terms  and  lectures  and  exams,  Equity, 
Criminal,  and  Chancery;  Temple  dinners, 
Parliamentarian  barristers.  Chancery  wards; 
Gray's  Inn,  Lincoln's  Inn,  Sir  John  Simon 
(of  Crippen  and  other  unsavoury  cases'  fame) 
— "a  bad  'un  at  the  Bailey"; — finally  of  the 
Inns  of  Court  O.T.C.;  of  old  doings  in  Hall; 
how  last  night  an  aerial  torpedo  came  through 
the  roof  and  shredded  the  fine  carpet  on  the 
floor  in  Hall  opposite,  but  fortunately  did  not 
explode — the  Hall  where  Queen  Bess  danced, 
and  Shakespeare's  company  played.  .  .  .  And 
outside,  up  the  little  stairway,  the  shrapnel 
sang  and  droned,  sharply  cracking  against  the 


176  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

court  sides,  and  the  guns  boomed,  rattled, 
barked,  and  thumped  overhead. 

But  Fritz  did  not  get  in  last  night.  I 
walked  out  at  half-past  nine,  up  Chancery 
Lane,  Portugal  Street,  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields 
("Bleak  House"),  by  Bell  Yard  and  Star 
Yard,  and  Gate  Court  to  Holborn;  Gray's 
Inn,  Red  Lion  Square,  Southampton  Row, 
and  back  finally  to  Strand  and  Aldwych,  to 
sleep  at  two  o'clock.  The  moon  shone  on 
calmly.  A  night  of  experience,  rather.  .  .  . 
With  best  wishes,  yours, 

Arthur  A.  Stanley. 

Y.M.C.A.  Hut,  AldwycU 

Strand,  London,  W.C. 

2  a.m.,  7  October,  1917 

Dear  C.  M.  S.: 

I  have  just  taken  my  late  evening  consti- 
tutional— through  the  Adelphi,  up  Essex 
Court,  through  the  Bar,  up  Bell  Yard,  past  the 
Royal  Courts  of  Justice,  to  Star  Yard,  abut- 
ting  on    Lincoln's    Inn:    then    down    Carey 

Street,  where  near  by  Mrs.  of  "Bleak 

House,"  who  was  "about  to  receive  a  Judg- 
ment— on  the  Day  of  Judgment,"  lived  at  the 
back,  in  one  of  the  old  curio  shops,  where  she 
could  see  Chancery,  then  sitting  in  Lincoln's 
Inn  Hall,  over  the  area  between.    So  on  into 


LONDON  DURING  AN  AIR  RAID         177 

Serle  Street  right,  and  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields: 
it  was  a  gi^eat  view  on  the  Embankment  in 
the  moon,  and  also  here  by  the  green  "Fields." 
It  is  two  hundred  paces  only  from  The  Old 
Curiosity  Shop,  Portsmouth  Street,  to  this 
Hut. 

We  are  on  the  Strand  west  of  St.  Clement 
Danes  and  east  of  St.  Mary-le- Strand — Clif- 
ford's Inn  lies  at  the  back  abutting  on  Ald- 
wych. 

To-day  I  visited  Parliament,  it  being  Sat- 
urday, and  Crystal  Palace  and  Hampton 
Court.    Fine  old  pile,  the  last! 

Yesterday  I  met,  through  an  American  Hut 
worker,  at  47  Russell  Square,  Eugene  Parker 
Chase,  Dartmouth,  '16,  sometime  Rhodes 
Scholar  of  Magdalen  College,  Oxford — and 
Leighton,  '17  (both  Phi  Beta  Kappa)  :  we 
lunched  in  Soho.  Chase  has  left  Magdalen 
and  is  working  for  the  American  Y.M.C.A. 
libraries'  department. 

[Unsigned] 


CHAPTER  X 

ON  SALISBURY  PLAIN 

In  the  "Clink" — Hopes  for  Recommendation  for  a  Com- 
mission— Gas  Masks — Galsworthy's  "Beyond" — 
Reminiscences  of  Oxford — The  Host  at  "Ye 
Cheshire  Cheese" — Ingoldsby — Leaving  for  France 
— Ye  Ballade  of  ye  Clinke 

Camp  No.  15,  Codford,  Wilts 
10th  Canadians,  C.G.A. 
October  12,  1917 

Dear  Gyles: 

I  have  two  letters  of  yours  recently — one 
awaited  me  on  my  return  from  leave,  and  the 
other  arrived  this  morning.  Both  are  very 
welcome.  .  .  .  When  I  got  back  I  had  six- 
teen letters  waiting.  I  was  gone  eleven  days: 
not  a  bad  average.  Two  especially  were  pleas- 
ant to  receive — one  from  the  Pater  with  a 
French  banknote  for  a  hundred  francs,  and  my 
monthly  money  order  of  <£3  from  Sydney 
Stanley,  to  whom  the  assigned  pay  is  made 
over.  .  .  . 

I  spent  eight  days  in  London,  and  had  a 

178 


ON  SALISBURY  PLAIN  179 

great  time  indeed.  I  explored  the  metropolis 
from  end  to  end:  National  Gallery,  Parlia- 
ment, opera  at  the  Drury  twice — "Figaro" 
and  "Aida" — dined  in  Soho,  'bused  to  Hamp- 
ton Court,  Hampstead,  Crystal  Palace,  and 
so  on.  I  had  a  great  old  time.  I  couldn't  tell 
you  a  tenth  of  all  I  saw,  so  I  w^on't  try.  .  .  . 

I  overstayed  my  leave  five  days,  and  here 
am  I,  in  the  "clink,"  working  daily  in  the  cook- 
house, and  spending  my  nights  here,  for  four- 
teen days,  three  of  which  have  went.  I'm  quite 
comfortable,  though,  with  books,  and  a  can- 
dle after  the  lights  go  out  at  ten.  It's  all  in 
a  lifetime.     I  daresay  I  deserved  it. 

I  have  my  application  for  commission  back 
from  Cambridge,  signed,  ready  to  use  w^hen 
we  reach  "the  promised  land" — France, — 
which  will  be  in  two  weeks'  time,  probably. 
And  mind  you,  nothing  is  fixed  about  my  com- 
mish.  If  I  had  known  of  the  possibility  w^hen 
at  Horsham,  I  could  have  gotten  "in"  there 
much  easier  than  I  can  at  the  Front,  where  the 
O.C.'s  recommendation  is  everything.  Of 
course,  my  "rep."  as  far  as  "crime"  goes,  is 
not  exactly  100  per  cent.  I've  had  a  few 
minor  sentences — but  "crime"  sheets  are  torn 
up  on  proceeding  overseas,  so  I  have  hopes. 
(A  crime  is  any  oiFence  against  military  law.) 


180  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

If  it  goes  through,  I  shall  apply  probably  for 
R.G.A.,  or  Hussars,  maybe.  I'd  like  the  horse 
end  of  the  latter,  or  the  R.F.A.  But  all  that 
is  as  shall  be  seen.  I  only  hope  and  wait,  be- 
cause I  don't,  frankly,  like  a  private's  life.  All 
N.C.O.'s  are  returned  men  in  the  present  Can- 
adian forces,  so  a  star  for  mine.  My  rank 
would  be  Second-Lieutenant,  otherwise  known 
as  subaltern,  or  "sub."  for  short.  I  would  be 
addressed  as  "Mr.,"  and  of  course  "sir."  I 
would  have  a  batman  (officer's  servant,  what 
you  call  an  "orderly"),  and  would  receive 
eight  shillings  a  day  and  allowances.  Not 
princely,  eh?  but  enough  to  do  quite  well  on, 
at  English  prices,  you  know — much  less  than 
American  in  nearly  everything  but  food.  .  .  . 
I  hope  you  have  a  good  time,  wherever  you 
go,  and  clinch  your  commission.*  .  .  .  Re- 
member that  an  officer  is  once  and  always  an 
"officer  and  gentleman,"  and  live  up  to  it,  as 
I  will  try  to  do  if  I  get  my  commission.  And 
remember  that  we  are  sons  of  a  great  father, 
old  boy,  who  loves  us  and  wishes  us  well,  and 
who  is  getting  rather  old;  so  let  neither  of  us 
do  anything  to  hurt  him,  for  God  knows  we've 
both  done  enough  of  that  in  the  past.    I  never 

*  First-Lieutenant  Gyles  Merrill  went  overseas  with  the  77th 
Field  Artillery  (U.  S.  Regulars)  early  in  the  summer  of  1918. 


ON  SALISBURY  PLAIN  181 

realised  what  the  Pater  was  to  me,  old  man,  till 
the  last  year  or  so,  and  I  want  to  have  him 
proud  of  me  if  I  can.  So  will  you  stick  with 
me  in  this?  He  has  written  me  often,  and  I 
can  read  here  and  there  that  he  has  fine  hopes 
of  you,  and  thinks  you  and  I  will  do  our  bit 
well — so  don't  let  us  disappoint  him.  .  .  . 
Yours,  for  France, 

Wain  WRIGHT. 

lOth  Canadian  Siege  Batterif 
Camp  No.  15,  Codford,  Wilts 
Oct.  12,  1917 

Dear  Fathbr: 

You  will  forgive  me  if  this  letter  is  a  rather 
hurried  one,  for  I  returned  to  find  approxi- 
mately twenty  pieces  of  mail  for  me,  and  they 
arrive,  every  post,  more  and  more.  Conse- 
quently there  is  mighty  little  time  to  answer  in. 
But  I'll  write  a  good  letter  soon. 

I  had  a  great  time  in  Stratford,  in  Oxford,, 
and  in  London,  where  I  saw  some  air-raids  at 
quite  close  range.  They  are  interesting  unnat- 
ural phenomena,  I  assure  you.  But  sensible 
London  will  never  be  beaten  or  cowed  by  them, 
and  by  shelter-taking  the  loss  of  life  is  made 
nearly  nil  now.  I  returned  to  camp,  having 
extended  my  leave,  two  days  ago. 

Yours  of  the  6th,  17th,  19th,  and  24.th  came 


182  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

to  me  in  a  bunch,  though  in  all  probability  they 
arrived  at  different  dates.  I  am  glad  you  had 
an  outing  at  Ipswich — it  is  a  pleasant  spot, 
indeed.  I  didn't  get  down  (was  unable)  to 
our  English  Ipswich,  and  am  quite  sorry,  as 
it  would  have  been  interesting.  You  see  my 
pass  and  free  railway  warrant  was  to  Strat- 
ford, via  London  and  Oxford,  so  I  was  able  to 
see  both  latter  places — how  shocking  and  ab- 
surd to  call  "Blighty" — London — a  "place!" 
("Blighty"  is  the  Tommies'  name  for  London, 
or  home,  from  Hindustani  hilawaiti,  meaning 
"the  home  district,"  I  believe.  Songs  are  writ- 
ten about  "Blighty."  A  wound  received  at 
the  Front,  which  gives  a  soldier  convalescent 
leave  to  England,  or  which  necessitates  his 
going  to  a  Home — English — ^hospital,  is  called 
a  "Blighty.")   .  .  . 

The  money  orders  (two)  of  £5  each  came 
safely,  and  I  have  written  already,  following 
the  arrival  of  each.  Your  100-franc  note 
(Sept.  17)  came  also,  in  good  order.  I  am 
very  much  obliged  indeed,  and  it  comes  very 
handy.  I  changed  it  at  a  local  bank  (London 
City  and  Midlands)  for  £3,  12s.,  receiving  no 
more  owing  to  the  depreciated  value  of  the 
franc.  As  I  wrote  you  a  couple  of  weeks  ago, 
British  treasury  notes  (£l  and  10s.)  are  very 


ON  SALISBURY  PLAIN  183 

convenient  in  France.  The  Banque  de  France 
notes,  of  course,  do  nearly  as  well — for  Brit- 
ish money  is  good  anywhere  on  the  Front,  be 
the  vendor  French  or  British,  and  of  course 
no  changing  is  required.  Either  method  would 
do  very  well,  but,  as  you  say,  money  orders 
are  often  a  "white  elephant"  over  there.  All 
the  mail  appears  to  come  through  very  well, 
though  occasionally  delayed,  and  transfers  of 
money  orders  are  effected  in  two  or  three  days, 
in  toto. 

I  have  two  letters  from  Gyles  in  the  "pile." 
He  tells  of  going  to  Montreal,  and  his  harm- 
less accident,  and  tells  of  life  at  Ethan  Allen. 
I  visited  the  Fort  last  summer — I  mean  1916 
— when  I  was  at  Plattsburg.  It  is  a  large 
camp,  for  America,  or  was  then.  You  should 
see  some  of  the  enormous  camps  here  in  Eng- 
land— some  literally  miles  square.  This  place 
has  ten  or  fifteen  thousand  men  in  it,  and  it 
is  a  tiny  village  of  two  parishes,  with  two  par- 
ish churches — Codford  St.  Peter  and  Codford 
St.  Mary.  The  camp  entrance  is  in  Codford 
St.  Peter,  my  hut  in  the  next  parish,  War- 
minster, I  think,  and  the  post-office  in  Cod- 
ford St.  ^lary. 

There  are  a  multitude  of  things  to  speak 
of.     We  have  "drawn"  our  gas  masks,  the 


184  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

P.H.  helmet  and  box  respirator.  The  P.H. 
helmet,  a  chemically  saturated  bag  of  cloth, 
fits  over  the  head  and  under  the  tunic  collar, 
■with  eye-glasses  and  a  mouthpiece.  The  air 
is  breathed  in  through  the  cloth  and  nose,  and 
out  by  the  mouthpiece.  This  helmet  is  effi- 
cient for  a  couple  of  hours  or  so.  The  box 
respirator  is  a  different  thing.  In  a  bag  slung 
by  a  strap  around  the  neck,  carried  at  the  side 
ordinarily,  but  shortened  to  the  chest  in  use,  is 
a  can,  chemicalised,  through  which  air  is 
breathed  in  through  layers  of  militating  acids 
and  solutions,  to  the  mouthpiece.  The  nose  is 
clasped  closed  by  a  nose-clip.  Air  is  breathed 
out  of  the  mouthpiece  and  exits  by  a  vent, 
which  automatically  closes  when  breath  is 
taken  in.  Thus  the  wearer  breathes  in  and  out 
through  the  mouth,  pure  air  coming  in  via 
can,  and  bad  air  going  out  via  vent.  The  face 
mask,  with  eye-glasses,  protects  the  eyes  and 
face  from  lachrjTuatory  ("tear")  gases.  This 
mask  will  last  in  use  for  six  hours  or  so,  but  a 
gas  attack  is  never  so  long  as  that. 

Soon  we  shall  draw  our  "tin  hats"  or  steel 
helmets.  They  protect  from  shrapnel  and 
rifle  bullets  by  deflecting.  The  German  hel- 
met (called  "Dolly  Varden,"  after  the  heroine 
of  Dickens's  "Barnaby  Rudge,"  who  wore  a 


ON  SALISBURY  PLAIN  185 

similar  mob-cap)  is  poorer  than  ours,  though 
it  seems  to  protect  more,  for  it  has  flatter  sides, 
and  "stops"  rather  than  deflects  a  missile, 
with  the  result  that  the  missile  often  pene- 
trates. .  .  . 

We  shall  probably  go  over  within  two  weeks. 
My  address  will  remain  "6th  Siege  Section, 
10th,"  etc.,  but  "c/o  Army  P.O.,  London,"  is 
the  only  place  designation.  Of  course  you  can- 
not know  exactly  where  we  are  in  France.  But 
the  Canadian  Front,  it  is  well  known,  is  in  the 
vicinity  [two  words  erased  by  the  censor]. 
We  go  as  drafts  to  the  batteries,  I  to  the  6th 
Canadians ;  but  I  will  write  my  French  address 
later.  .  .  . 

I  am  very  well,  and  weigh  in  my  clothes 
eleven  stone  four,  or  158  pounds,  American- 
ised. .  .  . 

The  application  came  safely  back  from  Mr. 
Lane,  with  a  kind  letter.  I  shall  be  able  to  use 
it  when  we  go  across.  I  think  that  it  is  not 
practicable,  just  now,  to  change  my  appella- 
tion. I  am  sorry,  but  I  think  it  must  wait  till 
later.     I  can't  very  well  explain  here.  .  .  . 

Quite  a  number  of  the  battery  are  farm  lads 
from  New  Brunswick  and  Nova  Scotia.  Per- 
haps some  one  is  son  of  some  guide  of  yours, 
in  past  seasons.    I  wish  you  every  success  in 


186  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

your  vacation,  and  all  that  the  law  allows !  In 
turn,  I  hope  to  exceed,  rather,  that  limit,  of 
Germans.  .  .  . 

With  best  wishes,  your  sincerely. 

Wain  WRIGHT. 

Guard  Room,  Camp  No.  15 
Codford,  Wilts 
October  13,  1917 

Dear  C.  M.  S.: 

Do  you  Ivnow  this  modern  six-shilling  mum- 
mer of  "life,"  called  Galsworthy?  You  may 
be  aware  that  he  has  recently  published,  among 
other  novels,  a  creation,  "Beyond,"  and  doubt- 
less is  now  reaping  the  fat  royalty,  for  every 
one  in  England  reads  these  false  prophets  now, 
and,  of  course,  no  one  ever  reads  a  war-book. 
They  are,  indeed,  rather  rotten  form,  and  be- 
hind British  masked  convention  in  this  regard 
there  rests  a  much  deeper,  sadder  reason — 
but  this  Galsworthy  is  positively  jolly- well 
rottener !  I  this  evening  finished  "Pendennis" : 
likewise  read  a  latter  instalment  of  this  aii- 
dela  affair.  I  have  read  previous  ones,  but 
this  capped  it.  Violently  plunged  from  the 
dear  old  tale  of  egotistical  Pen,  ludicrous 
Foker,  and  good  and  saintly  Helen  and  Laura 
— that  fine  girl  last-mentioned!  with  their  de- 
cent,  clean  story — into  this  shrieking  twen- 


ON  SALISBURY  PLAIN  187 

tieth-century  sordidness  of  intrigue,  seduction, 
and  rampant  infidelity,  to  pitiful  women  and 
filthy  men,  from  Laura's  good  and  holy  faith 
in  God  of  our  Fathers — to  Gyp's  (the  "hero- 
ine's") callous  cynicism  and  crass  indifference, 
smirking  with — 

"Za  vie  est  vaine: 
Un  peu  d'amour, 
Un  peu  de  hame — 
Et  puis,  bonjour! — *' 

Gad,  I  am  sickened  and  everlastingly  fed- 
up  with  this  Galsworthy — who,  of  course,  did 
write  "The  Dark  Flower."  But,  na'theless,  a 
has  with  him! 

Now  that  you  have  borne  with  me  (let  us 
hope  so,  at  any  rate)  for  the  extent  of  my 
first  paragraph,  you  will  perhaps  read  on. 
Know,  much  tried  person,  that  I  write  this  in 
a  6x10  cell  in  the  "clink"  (with  a  guttering, 
flaring  candle),  having,  it  is  true,  somewhat 
disagreed  with  the  military  as  to  when  my 
services  were  again  expected  after  leave  to 
London  and  other  towns,  and  having  received 
on  return  the  delightful  surprise  of  five  days' 
pay  docked  and  fourteen  days  F.P.  No.  2, 
from   an   eye-glassed   and  gouty  colonel  of 


188  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

Royal  Artillerie.  Eh  hien,  voild  tout!  Cette 
chose,  c'est  rien  que  juMe!  Tiens,  c'est  la 
guerre! 

Oh,  the  dear  delightful  time  in  Oxford,  my 
friend!  To  be  there  on  that  so  ancient  spot, 
where  studied  prelates,  kings,  gentry,  and 
commons,  the  great  men  of  history  and  litera- 
ture, our  literature,  this  matchless  legacy  from 
out  of  storm  and  war  and  peaceful  content- 
ment, bountiful  fruit  of  these  centuries  of  the 
best  and  noblest  thought  of  this  our  England 
— enshrined  here  within  this  slumbering  ex- 
quisite old  town,  with  its  pleasant  walks  and 
grey  ancient  buildings,  memorials  to  these  men 
who  have  passed  hence,  but  whom  we  ever  re- 
member as  builders  and  lovers  of  this  same 
England.  I  would  like  exceedingly  to  go  there 
some  day;  and  the  delightful  old  principal  of 
Brasenose,  whom  I  called  upon  at  his  house  in 
the  High,  writes  me  that  I  may  omit  Respon- 
sions,  having  a  year's  military  science — ^mak- 
ing possible  a  residence  of  only  two  j^ears. 

I  saw  only  one  poor  commoner  at  the  Uni- 
versity, and  very  few  dons.  It  w  as  long  vaca- 
tion, Fall  Term  not  coming  up  for  a  week  yet. 
(Kings,  in  London,  is  well-nigh  out  of  busi- 
ness, I  believe.) 


ON  SALISBURY  PLAIN  189 

Cecil  Rhodes  was  an  Oriel  man,  and  his 
statue  is  let  into  the  front  on  the  High.  He 
has  done  a  great  work  indeed  with  his  scholar- 
ships. University  is  proud  of  Grinling  Gib- 
bons's  carving,  and  Shelley's  memorial  as  well. 

Good  Boniface,  mine  host  of  "Ye  Cheshire 
Cheese,"  Wine  Office  Court,  Fleet  Street,  told 
me  also  of  Oxford,  when  I  supped  there,  and 
listened  to  the  old  reprobate  of  a  parrot  there 
in  Dr.  Johnson's  coiFee-room,  which,  if  you 
call  it  certain  opprobrious  epithets,  will  an- 
swer you  very  filthily  and  to  the  point  in  one 

word,  or  rather  two,  "you !"   This  waiter, 

whom  I  spoke  of  on  the  preceding  page,  and 
nearly  lost  sight  of,  held  forth  on  Oxford:  "I 
used  to  'ave  a  friend  'oo  drove  the  Oxford 
caoach;  from  Piccad'lly  Circus  it  run,  'ite 
styges,  an'  fourteen  mile  it  myde  too,  wiv  ten 
ahtsides  and  six  in — right  by  Maudlun  Tower 
an'  the  'Igh  Street  to  the  'Mitre'  in  Cornmar- 
ket." — All,  I  can't  give  you  his  argot:  it 
is  midnight,  and  my  pencil  is  sadly  meander- 
ing. What  bosh  I've  been  writing!  I  would 
not  occupy  your  time  with  commonplaces  al- 
ways (vanity!  that  ever  I  wrote  anything 
else!)  so  I  shall  stop  this  for  the  time.  Good- 
night, my  friend. 


190  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

Sunday,  le  l^me  Octobre 

I  have  no  energy  to-day.  I  cannot  write  to- 
day. I  will  not  burden  you.  Adios — hasta 
manana! 

Monday,  le  15me  Octobre 

I  am  lifeless.  I  have  this  morning  a  pleas- 
ant thought,  however.  I  have  been  reading 
Ingoldsby,  and  my  mind  is  a  queer  jumble  of 
impressions.  That  is  an  exquisite  thing  at  the 
end: 

**As  I  laye  a-thynkynge,  a-thynkynge,  a-thynkynge, 
Merrie  sang  the  Birde  as  she  sat  upon  the  spraye ! 
There  came  a  noble  Knyghte, 
With  his  hauberke  shynynge  brighte, 
And  Ills  gallant  heart  was  lyghte, 
Free  and  gaye; 
As  I  laye  a-thynkynge,  he  rode  upon  his  waye." 

Wednesday,  17 me  Octobre 

To-day  I  left  the  clink,  and  now  prepare 
myself  for  leaving  England. 

I  read,  whilst  "imprisoned,"  the  "Ingoldsby 
Legends"  entire,  Second  Part  "King  Henry 
IV,"  and  more  cursorily  "Midsummer  Night's 
Dream"  over  again,  and  First  Part  "King 
Henry  IV."  I  enjoyed  myself  very  much. 
But  now  to  fresh  fields  and  pastures.  I  take 
over  in  books:  Shakespeare,  Tennyson  (to 
156),    "Canterbury   Tales"    (Skeat,    Oxford 


ON  SALISBURY  PLAIN  191 

edition),  Vergil,  "^neid"  I- VI,  "Wilhelm 
Tell,"  "Golden  Treasury,"  "Pickwick,"  "Col- 
lected Verse"  of  Rudyard  Kipling,  et  alia; 
French,  German,  and  English  Dictionaries; 
map  (Daily  Telegraph) .  I  hope  at  Folke- 
stone to  secure  a  small  Horace,  an  Iliad-let 
(Macmillan's  Pocket  Edition),  and  "Don 
Quixote  de  la  Mancha."  I  also  have  my  old 
Harvard  Italian  grammar,  and  "England  in 
the  Middle  Ages"  by  a  Manchester  woman, 
B.A. 

We  leave  this  evening  for  France,  via 
Folkestone :  we  stop  at  the  base,  [three  or  four 
words  deleted.]  I  cannot  tell  just  when  I 
shall  be  able  to  write  again.  But  will  you 
please  carry  on? 

I  have  sent  you  a  book,  under  separate  cov- 
er; also  another  epistle.  Luck  to  you,  Dart- 
mouth, and — 

"Vivat  universitas, 
Vivant  professores!" 

Yours,  as  ever, 

WaINWEIGHT  MERRILIi. 

I  am  glad  that  my  scribblings  have  been  of 
some  pleasure  to  you:  yours  certainly  have, 
and  are,  to  me,  more  than  I  can  easily  say. 

W.  M. 


192  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

YE    BALLADE    OF    YE    CLINKE. 

(With  any  and  all  apologies.) 

Uponne  a  breezy  automnne  daye 
Wythinne  ye  cloudie  monthe  October, 
Two  soldiers  on  their  blankets  laye, 
And  bothe  of  them  wer  sadde  and  sober. 

Above  them  spreade  a  dismal  roofe, 
Around  them  iron  walles  of  greye; 
Ye  O.C.  hadde  them  bye  ye  hoofe. — 
Two  gunners  in  ye  Clinke  they  laye. 

Ye  one  hadde  disagrede  (ye  asse!) 
Wythe  what  ye  Major  hadde  to  saye 
About  ye  lengthe  of  Blyghtye  passe. 
Two  gunners  in  ye  Clinke  they  laye. 

Ye  other  hadde  hadde  hys  owne  idea 
Of  duty  on  ye  previous  daye; 
Lipped  ye  poleaceman-bombardier. 
Two  gunners  in  ye  Clinke  they  laye. 

"Alias,"  sayed  one,  "what  for  did  I 
Remayne  to  see  ye  musicke-playe? 
In  vayne  ye  sightes  of  beautee — fie!" 
Two  gunners  in  ye  Clinke  they  laye. 

"Forsoothe,"  ye  other  quothe,  "I  felte, 
When  I  was  seized  and  ledde  awaie, 
Like  byffinge  him  right  on  hys  belte." — 
Two  gunners  in  ye  Clinke  they  laye. 


ON  SALISBURY  PLAIN  igs 

"For  me,  two  weekes  of  duraunce  vyle; 
Full  scone  ye  Major  wille  make  haye 
Of  all  ye  swearynges  in  goode  style." — • 
Two  gunners  in  ye  Clinke  they  laye. 

"To-morrowe  it  shal  bee  ye  same; 
Ye  barres  obscure  ye  lyghte  of  daye; 
We're  fedde-uppe  wythe  ye  filthye  game." — 
Two  gunners  in  ye  Clinke  they  staye. 

W.  M. 

Codford  St.  Mary's,  Wiltshire 
October  17,  1917 

Dear  Father: 

I  send  you  this  evening  some  cards  and 
handbooks  which  I  picked  up  during  my  jour- 
neyings  in  England.  They  go  by  parcel  post, 
and  I  hope  you  receive  them.  Also  the  broken 
cross  of  Canterbury  Cathedral  stone,  unfor- 
tunately crushed  in  my  bag;  one  of  our  cap- 
crests,  and  a  piece  of  shrapnel  from  a  H.E. 
shell,  fired  on  Lydd  ranges,  which  was  a  "dud" 
(unexploded  shell). 

I  sent  some  books  and  belongings  to  Cox's 
warehouse  in  London,  for  keeping. 

We  leave  this  evening  for  France,  via 
Folkestone.  We  shall  stop  at  [Staples  (prob- 
ably), the  Canadian  Base.  I  cannot  tell  just 
when  I  shall  be  able  to  write.  My  address,  till 
I  advise  you  differently,  is:  "6th  Siege  Sec- 


194  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

tion,  10th  Can.  Siege  Battery,  B.E.F.,  France, 
c/o  Army  P.O.,  London." 

I  am  sorry  to  have  to  cut  this  short.    I  am 
well,  and  expectant  of  a  good  whack  at  the 
Boche! 
Best  wishes  to  everyone. 

Yours  sincerely, 

Wainwright. 

Codford  St.  Mary's,  Wiltshire 
October  17,  1917 

Dear  C.  M.S.: 

I  send  you  this  evening,  by  post,  a  battered 
copy  of  "Puck  of  Pook's  Hill,"  which  I  se- 
cured in  Hastings  in  haste,  when  I  went  to 
Burwash.  It  accompanied  me  there,  every- 
where I  went,  and  I  have  read  it  entirely  since. 
So  I  hope  that  you  will  pardon  its  condition, 
and  put  it  among  your  Kipling  books,  as  a  bit 
of  a  memento.  I  had  to  dispose  of  it  before 
leaving. 

I  have  been  zealously  trying  to  write  you  a 
good  letter  to  repay  partly  your  three  fine 
ones,  but  have  signally  failed.  I  have  had  no 
time  since  I  left  the  clink  (as  I  delineate  un- 
der another  envelope).  I  hope  to  do  better 
later  on. 

[Five  lines  deleted  by  censor.] 


ON  SALISBURY  PLAIN  195 

I  thank  you  very  sincerely  for  your  letters, 
again.  I  hope  that  you  will  write  whenever 
you  can  and  will;  tell  of  Hanover  life  (which 
I  lived  once) ;  the  oracles  and  high-priests  of 
English  I-II  (with  which  you  are  still  con- 
nected?) ;  and  Kipling — anything  else  you  will. 
Believe  me  ever, 

Your  grateful  friend, 

Wainwkight  Mkrrill. 


CHAPTER  XI 

TO  FRANCE  AND  FLANDERS 

Folkestone  Pier — Landing  at  Boulogne — The  Camp  on 
the  Hilltop — Smoke  Gossip  of  the  British  Army — 
The  Quai— At  the  Y.M.C.A.  by  the  Priesterstraat: 
An  English  Padre's  Talk  on  America — Aeroplanes 
in  Formation — Going  Up  to  the  Line 

[Postcard  to  his  father.] 

Folkestone,  18  Oct.,  1917 

Voila  notre  caserne  pour  aujourd'hm,  et  le 
quai  d'ou  Von  part  pour  Boulogne — commc 
nous. 

Bonnes  volontes! 

Wainttright. 

Somewhere-in-France 
October  19,  1917 

Dear  Mr.  Merrill: 

Not  long  since  our  transport,  a  Belgian  ves- 
sel, once  in  the  Ostend  service,  took  us  over 
the  Channel,  which  was  quite  calm,  and  al- 
lowed a  more  than  usually  fine  passage.  We 
went  quickly  enough,  and  sighted  the  chalk- 

196 


MARINE  CRESCENT,   FOLKESTONE — Barracks  at   tile   Right. 


TO  FRANCE  AND  FLANDERS  197 

cliffs  on  the  French  side,  and  slid  rapidly  into 
the  good  harbour  and  between  the  jetties. 
These  are  overhung  on  the  right  by  the  cliff 
hotels,  of  grey,  as  everything  else  in  the  town 
is,  and  placarded  with  English  signs. 

We  were  slow  to  disembark,  but  finally  land- 
ed, and  found  our  kit-bags  to  begin  a  hot  and 
wearisome  trek  up  an  awe-inspiring  hill,  after 
we  had  foot-slogged  through  the  narrow 
streets  with  their  few  vans  and  trams.  The 
picturesqueness  of  French  street  names  is 
striking — Rue  dn  Bras  d'Or,  Rue  des  Grandes 
lEcoles,  Rue  Victor  Hugo.  Finally  we 
emerged  on  the  hilltop,  and  the  broad  Chemin 
National — "Pas  de  Calais^  96  k.;  St.  Omer^ 

. .  kr 

We  turned  in  at  the  camp  and  halted,  break- 
ing  off  shortly  to  seek  our  tents.  The  Ser- 
geant-Ma j  or,  with  British  terseness,  chanted 
out  the  camp  orders  while  we  were  standing^ 
there,  rather  fagged — and  I  assure  you  we 
were  jolly  well  glad  to  divest  our  bodies  of 
great-coats  and  kits. 

The  camp  commands  the  pleasant  Norman- 
dy landscape,  browning  and  reddening  now  in 
its  scattered  and  clustered  forets,  with  villas 
and  newish  red-tile  and  concrete  chateaux  on 
the  back  hills,  old  farmhouses  here  and  there  in 


198  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

the  valleys,  and  broad  hedged  fields  as  a  back- 
ground. One  can  see  far  down  "into  Brit- 
tany," comes  the  fancy,  but  of  course  it  af- 
fords not  so  distant  a  view  as  that.  We  see 
the  Channel  to  north  and  west,  north  over  the 
Napoleon  Monument,  a  black  round  pillar 
against  the  horizon,  in  the  au  dela  of  which  a 
white  lighthouse-flash  comes  regularly  at  night. 
But  the  view  over  the  grey  and  blue  Channel 
doesn't  reach  to  England.  .  .  . 

All's  well  here,  in  spite  of  the  black  on  most 
civilians.  Some  gamins  are  happily,  piercing- 
ingly  chanting  the  "Marseillaise"  in  the  road, 
and  a  couple  of  round  chunky  Norman  greys 
are  bobbing  and  jingling  uphill  with  heavy 
drays,  their  farmer-drivers  whistling.  The 
poilus  are  in  the  campagne,  and  les  autres  a 
la  maison  carry  on.  It  is  for  both:  "lis  ne 
passeront  pas"  backed  by  "il  faut  quHls  rC' 
tournent!" 

Little  has  happened  since  we  came.  It  is 
quite  chilly,  and  when  the  short  parades  are 
done  we  retire  to  the  warmer  tents  and  recrea- 
tion canteens,  when  they  are  open.  A  big 
beaker  of  tea  comes  well.  We  turn  in  here 
by  nine  or  nine-thirty,  and  are  glad  to  roll  in 
pairs  for  warmth.    And  it  is  going  to  be  colder 


TO  FRANCE  AND  FLANDERS     199 

and  much  wetter.  Mais  tout  pa — c'est  la 
guerre! 

Things  soldiers  need  are  cheaper  in  France 
than  in  England,  for  duties  and  war-taxes  are 
removed  for  Thomas's  benefit:  a  huge  quan- 
tity of  tea — quite  a  litre — for  a  penny.  But 
food  is  nearly  as  high  in  price,  and  some  things 
cost  much  more. 

I  haven't  much  more  of  interest,  save  that  I 
have  found  a  man,  teacher  of  classics  at  a 
college  in  New  Brunswick,  who  knows  my 
Arma  virumque  excellently,  and  also  a  num- 
ber of  teachers  and  men  I  knew  at  Dartmouth 
and  Harvard.  The  fame  of  old  Professor 
Lord  (J.  K.,  who  taught  Latin  Lit.)  had 
reached  his  ears  also.  It  is  a  small  world,  is 
it  not? 

I  hope  you  have  good  luck  on  your  trip  hunt- 
ing this  year.  New  Brunswick  cannot  be 
nearly  shot  out  yet.  I  will  write  more  when 
il  y  en  a. 

My  address  is:  6th  Canadian  Siege  Battery, 
B.E.F.,  France,  c/o  Army  P.O.,  London.  I 
would  be  careful  about  the  name  and  number, 
without  and  within,  when  you  write,  as  the 
letters  are  censored  often,  and  need  plain  di- 
rection to  reach  their  destination.    Of  course 


200  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

we  cannot,  in  turn,  mention  where  we  are  now. 
Our  letters  are  censored  by  our  subalterns, 
before  leaving. 

Yours  sincerely, 

Aethue. 

France,  October  19,  1917 

Dear  C.  M.S.: 

We  came  over,  not  long  ago,  to ,  and 

are  encamped  here  on  the  top  of  a  high  hill 
connmanding    the    surrounding    country,    the 

Channel,  and  Gris-Nez,  with  the  Pas  de . 

It's  night  now,  and  the  stars  are  coming  out 
plainly.  The  smoke  of  Channel  voyageurs  still 
hangs  here  and  there,  and  a  light-ship  is  wink- 
ing, out  in  the  Straits,  aw^ay  oiF.  And  over 
this  Channel  we  have  left  behind  England  and 
her  fine  white  cliffs,  guarding  her  in  her  "nar- 
row seas." 

We  had  a  capital  crossing,  very  nearly  calm, 
and  quite  clear — and  the  dear  old  cliffs  sank, 
and  hung,  and  faded  out  in  the  short  haze: 
and  I  had  left  England — but,  carrying  on, 
[three  lines  deleted  by  the  censor.]   .  .  . 

As  I  looked  back,  we  shot  into  the  harbour, 
slackened,  and  slid  between  the  jetties  into  the 
basin  and  alongside  the  quay,  with  quaint,  sign- 
ridden,  grey  stone  houses  perching  on  the  green 


TO  FRANCE  AND  FLANDERS     201 

shore  cliff;  and  blue  ^oilus  were  standing 
stolidly  by  the  sides  of  the  Place,  fusil  au  pied. 

We  straggled  off,  picked  up  kit-bags,  and 
formed  two-deep  before  the  Bureau  de  Pastes, 
moved  off  at  quick-march,  through  narrow 
streets  of  more  signs  and  shops,  every  other 
one,  seemingly,  a  coiffeur,  epicerie  or  boulan- 
gerie.  But  how  few  people  on  the  streets :  old 
working  women,  some  soldiers,  service-striped 
caporah  with  medailles  (the  "Legion,"  large- 
ly) ;  some  bent  old  men,  children  hopping 
along,  demanding  ''cigarette  picture,  meester!" 
(inevitably),  and  bravely  volunteering  to 
shoulder  a  kit-bag  larger  than  they  for  a 
penny  ''tout  complef — black  largely  worn  by 
the  civilians,  every  other  person  having  it. 
One  mentally  compared  the  stoic  jesting  car- 
ry-on spirit  of  the  Strand  and  Piccadilly,  with 
now  and  then,  if  one  looked  for  it,  a  black 
cravat.    But  so  few  people! 

Up  the  winding  hill  road  we  went,  to  and 
past  the  heavily-walled  convent — or  castle,  was 
it? — in  ancient  grey,  with  the  arrow  slits. 
Now,  still  climbing,  you  pass  poorer-class 
shops  and  small  stone  houses.  A  tramcar, 
sparsely  filled,  hummed  gaily  by,  with  a  grin- 
ning gamin  on  the  rear  coupling — Gavroche, 
for  all  the  world. 


202  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

We  have  reached  the  top,  and  turn  into  the 
fields  on  the  left  to  our  tents — twelve  men  to  a 
white  pyram.  We  delve  into  white  ration- 
bags  for  the  loaves  and  tinned  sahnon;  another 
eternal  parade  is  held  to  discover  the  missing 
loaves,  and  we  are  free  for  an  hour  to  explore 
the  camp,  and  cheer  ourselves  with  a  big  bum- 
per of  tea  and  cake  and  sardines  at  the  B.E.F. 
canteen,   the  haven   of   hungry   souls.     But 

"Evoer  (or  " it!")   says  No.  10  Siege, 

"no  bloody  beer  till  six!"  A  parade  at  five  to 
unearth  the  missing  blankets.  It  is  chill  here 
on  the  hilltop,  for  all  our  great  outlook,  and 
on  go  our  cloaks.  We  climbed  that  three-mile 
hill  in  them  in  the  heat  this  afternoon,  too. 

In  the  evening  No.  10  (O  Decima  Legiof) 
drinks  tea,  eats  cake,  or  imbibes  beer,  and  buys 
Navy  Cut,  or  Players,  Capstans,  and  Wood- 
bines, or  "Greys,"  State  Express,  and  Kenil- 
worths,  according  to  its  individual  wont.  I  use 
Kenilworths,  which  are  Is.  2d.  in  England  for 
twenty,  but  here,  to  Tommies,  only  8d.  in  all 
the  canteens.  Craven  A's,  in  Piccadilly  Is.  6d. 
for  twenty-five,  become  here  Is.  6d.  for  fifty, 
owing  to  duties  being  removed.  Smoke  gos- 
sip does  not  interest  non-fumeurs,  I  suppose, 
but  it  is  vital  in  the  British  Army.    The  com- 


TO  FRANCE  AND  FLANDERS     203 

mon  smoke,  Players,  3d.  to  4d.  for  ten,  and 
Woodbines,  2d.  for  ten,  are  highly  favoured. 
I  cannot  abide  Players. 

At  nine  (early  sleeping  here)  Tommy  and 
"Canydian"  repair  to  their  tents,  stow  as  best 
they  can  then'  kit-bag,  water-bottle,  haversack, 
bandolier,  belt  and  mess-tin,  spare  boots,  P.H. 
helmet,  tin  hat  and  box  respirator,  while,  sleep- 
ing with  his  rubber  sheets  (two),  blankets  and 
great  coat  (or  cloak),  with  a  pillow  of  his 
tunic,  il  dorme-t-en. 

**  Quelque-part-de-la-France" 
October  22,  1917 

Two  evenings  have  I  been  a  la  ville:  it  was 
quite  mildly  interesting.  In  place  of  British 
khaki  everywhere,  one  finds  blue  in  as  great 
abundance — poilus  and  their  officers  of  the 
honest  Boulonnais  on  leave,  base-employed 
Tommies,  A.S.C.,  R.E.,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing;  blue  sailors  with  queer  little  caps  ''de 
VArmee  de  la  Mer/'  but,  strangely,  not  very 
many  women. 

The  qiuii  is  interesting:  British  and  French 
"navvies,"  railway  men,  still  some  blue-dressed 
douaniers,  and  here  at  the  right,  over  the  Font, 
the  long  wagons-lits  of  the  Bombay  Express, 
about  to  leave  for  Marseilles — finely  appointed 


204  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

carriages,  in  mahogany,  with  all  sorts  of  fit- 
tings, all  corridor  ones,  of  course,  peopled  with 
many  of  the  brass-hatted  and  becrimsoned 
Staff,  with  their  tres  blase  and  ennuye  air, 
which  is  strictly  comme-il-faut  for  these  im- 
portant personages.  The  quai  ends  in  a  dim 
jetty  pharos,  barely  visible,  and  the  Channel 
mist  shuts  in  all  else.  A  fog-horn  is  bawling, 
and  four  searchlights  are  slanting  into  the  sky, 
which  is  not  completely  obscured  of  stars.  In 
a  word,  it  is  a  typical  Channel  war-time  night, 
on  the  coast  of  notre  beau  pays. 

Shops  are  quite  well  stocked,  and  people 
in  general  carry  on,  with  the  aid  of  goods  from 
England.  Food  is  rather  high,  but  one  can 
still  get  plenty  of  sugar  and  delicious  frosted 
gateaux,  large  and  luscious,  at  two  francs  and 
a  half,  which  isn't  bad  at  all.  It  strikes  me 
that  there  is,  on  the  whole,  less  grumbling  at 
the  war  here  than  in  England,  where  our  dear 
bluff  British  habit  of  gi'ousing  will  never  down, 
I  suppose.  The  French  sum  it  up  in  a  terse 
''c^est  la  guerre"  and  an  inch-lift  of  the  should- 
ers. Tramcars  still  go  about,  ancient  fiacres 
are  pressed  in  for  lack  of  essence  for  the  taxis, 
and  lorries  dash  about  every^vhere. 

D* autre  chose,  voild  cette  belle  Normandie. 


TO  FRANCE  AND  FLANDERS  .   205 

It  is  fine  to-day,  and  was  so  yesterday.  Till 
later. 

Yours, 

Arthur  A.  S. 

Evidently  Wainwright  is  following  Army 
regulations  when  he  writes  "France,"  when  he 
makes  it  obvious  by  the  context  that  he  is  on 
Belgian  soil.  In  his  letter  to  me  dated  Octo- 
ber 80,  where  he  has  first  written,  "for  you 
are  in  Belgium  and  keep  to  the  right,"  he  has 
crossed  out  "in  Belgium"  and  inserted,  "on 

the  Continent." 

Somewhere-Else,  France 

October  2^,  1917 

DeaeC.  M.  S.: 

This  evening  I  have  been  over  to  the  Y.  M. 
C.  A.  by  the  Priesterstraat  and  the  Church, 
to  a  most  interesting  talk.  I'll  try  to  tell  you 
a  bit  of  it.  Everything  was  in  the  audience: 
muddy  and  fed-up  Imperials  of  the  pic- 
turesque county  regiments'  badges,  Chinese 
labour  Coolies,  N-Zed  dark-complexioned 
chaps,  Ossys  (Australians)  with  square  chins 
and  withered  eyelids,  blue-and-green  kilted 
Camerons  and  the  black  Argyll  plaid,  Cana- 
dians— everything. 

The  stage  was  small  and  low-canopied, 
draped  with  red  and  white  bunting,  and  with 


206  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

a  small  table  covered  with  the  Union  Jack — 
the  first  one  I'd  seen  for  a  month,  so  I  noticed 
it.  We  here  do  not  parade  the  Flag.  Smoke 
hung  heavy  in  the  room,  and  spread  in  blue 
aureole  over  the  men  on  the  stage — a  Major 
of  Artillery;  a  Staff  Colonel  of  Infantry;  at 
the  right  a  brass-  and  red-hatted  Staff  Gen- 
eral, with  the  African,  Soudan,  and  the  '90's 
Indian  ribbons  up — he  sat  with  crossed  brown 
glittering  boots ;  next  him  a  blue-capped  Staff 
Padre-Colonel,  smoking;  and  by  the  table 
another  Padre  was  talking,  and  holding  his 
crowd.  [Two  lines  deleted  by  the  censor.] 
...  he  had  gone  to  America  last  spring,  be- 
fore the  States  entered,  to  tour  the  German 
Middle  West,  and  talk  Britain  and  the  War 
to  the  Germans.  [Two  lines  deleted.]  .  .  . 
for  the  pure  love  of  this  cause.  He  had  visited 
all  the  district  desired,  the  East  too,  and  the 
South,  and  he  told  wonderfully  of  it — of  all 
that  spring  ferment  over  chez-vous,  which  I 
missed;  of  a  country  coming  into  line,  from 
probable  civil  war  if  war  had  come  in  Decem- 
ber, to  union,  in  a  sense,  in  April ;  of  his  Atlan- 
tic crossings ;  of  the  dead  men  in  lifebelts,  sin- 
gly, six  hundred  miles  from  land;  of  the  false 
life-boats  with  upright  oar  and  dummy  ex- 
hausted men  S-0-S-ing  steamers  up  to  the 


TO  FRANCE  AND  FLANDERS     207 

periscope  within  the  oar  and  a  torpedo.  The 
Staff  Padre  uncrossed  his  muddy  jack-boots 
and  reached  a  muddy  hand  for  the  trench-can- 
dle on  the  table  to  relight  his  pipe,  and  outside 
a  shell  ploughed  down  into  the  little  town  with 
a  roar — nobody  moved  or  noticed  it, — and  the 
speaker  went  on,  holding  you  by  his  exquisite 
English  and  wonderful  vocabulary.  He  could 
joke  finely  too,  and  ended  with  a  great  tribute 
to  America  and  its  President. 

The  General,  after  the  droit  du  seigneur  of 
Generals  and  that  holy  ilk,  rose  to  top  it,  and 
in  the  thin  uneven  voice  of  Generals  held  forth : 
"I  agwee  entiahly  wiv — ah — the  speakah's 
'straordin'rily  interesting  lectuah ;  weally  quite 
amazin'  an'  vivid — ah! — " 

It  will  rain  before  morning,  and  the  roof 
leaks,  but  fa  ne  fait  Hen.  I  cannot  give  you 
the  charm  of  that  lecture — I  see  I've  signally 
failed. 

October  25,  1917 
The  streets  again,  rush,  bustle,  khaki,  and 
mud.  It  is  pleasant  to  overlook  the  horrid 
prices,  and  visit  the  little  shops,  where  gut- 
tural French,  Flemish,  and  wonderful  English 
are  spoken,  stridently,  constantly,  by  the  wom- 
en to  their  diverse  customers.  But  one  can 
buy  fair  chocolate  at  1  fr.  50c.  the  half-pound 


208  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

(made  in  Boston),  so  why  worry?  Fruit  is 
exorbitant — 2  fr.  the  pound  for  eating  apples 
and  pears. 

Yesterday  afternoon,  with  a  ci-devant  Latin 
instructor  of  INIount  Allison  College,  some- 
where in  the  Maritime  Provinces,  I  walked, 
tin-hatted,  out  on  that  busy  road  northward  to 

D .    It  was  pie  in  soleil,  and  a  fascinating 

sight.  Lorries  of  every  shape  and  form,  dec- 
orated with  harps,  lions  rampant,  dominoes, 
eyes,  howitzers,  running  foxes,  and  red  club- 
spots,  sputtled  along  through  the  eternal  muck, 
in  two  lines  back  and  forth;  despatch  riders 
tore  by  between  them ;  now  and  again  a  placid 
Flemish  mule  drew  a  bobbing  two-wheeled 
carree  over  the  cobbles,  and  pedestrians  ven- 
tured on  that  road  at  imminent  risk  to  life  and 
limb. 

We  came  to  an  aerodrome  at  the  right  of 
the  poplars.  Two  flights  were  beginning — the 
machines  in  parallel  lines  with  buzzing  pro- 
pellers were  waiting  in  their  green  body-colour 
and  blue-and-white  spottings  of  the  Allies. 
One  could  glimpse  the  pilots  bending  over  the 
engines  and  speaking  to  the  mechanics  on  the 
ground.  Then  two  men  holding  the  middle 
'plane  of  one  flock  sprang  away — the  machine 
darted  forward,  bumping  a  little  right  toward 


TO  FRANCE  AND  FLANDERS     209 

us;  on  she  came,  and  when  a  stone's  throw 
away  tilted  her  planes  and  shied  into  the  air  at 
fifty  degrees,  and  over  our  heads  and  the  trees. 
The  next  one  followed,  and  the  next,  their 
roars  blending.  They  were  soon  all  up  and 
making  off  in  formation  toward  the  long  row 
of  "sausages"  (observation  balloons)  that  rest- 
ed easily  at  intervals,  fifteen  of  them  in  sight, 
above  the  green  plain  and  trees  eastward  that 
marked  the  Line.    There  was  work  to  be  done. 

That  morning  a  battleplane  swooped  low 
over  our  billet.  A  swarm  of  these  dark  flies 
were  hovering  and  darting  in  the  southeast. 
Some  prey,  probably,  I  thought,  and  correctly, 
for  as  tiny  grey  puif s  bloomed  out  among  the 
swarm,  and  reports  followed,  one  knew  that 
the  Boche  was  of  their  number;  and  they  com- 
ing nearer,  one  could  distinguish  the  gi'ey- 
white  glint  on  the  opponents.  It  was  a  hot 
little  show.  Presently,  on  the  sixth  pufF,  one 
of  the  silver  gnats  dropped  suddenly,  slowly 
turning  over  and  over  and  flashing  in  the  sun- 
light. It  fell  out  of  sight,  and  directly  the 
other  silver  thing  shot  out  of  the  swarm,  back 
east — to  Bochie,  where  he  belonged.  Our  flies 
quickly  dispersed,  and  I  returned  to  my  book. 
There  was  one  less  Kindtodter  in  this  sector. 

To-day  is  fine  after  the  rain,  and  I  joy  in 


210  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

it,  for  it  will  not  be  for  long.  There  are  por- 
tentous events  in  the  nebula  of  the  approaching 
time — as  you  shall  doubtless  hear  in  due  sea- 
son.   I  cannot  tell  of  them  now. 

With  the  best  of  wishes  to  you  and  your 
Dartmouth  chaps. 

Yours,  for  England, 

Aethur  a.  S. 

Somervhere-Else-in-France 
October  27,  1917 

Deae  Mr.  Merrill: 

Soon  we  are  going  up  to  the  Line.  There 
has  been  great  work  done  there  recently,  but 
there's  a  lot  yet  to  do,  and  we're  here  for  that. 

The  weather  is  getting  a  bit  wet,  of  course, 
and  IS^ovember  is  nearly  here — and  I've  a 
nasty  cold.  Yet  one  should  always  be  cheer- 
ful. We  have  had  a  bit  of  a  warm  time  with 
the  Boche  in  the  air,  but  he's  only  an  amateur, 
after  all. 

I  have  little  time  now,  but  will  write  more 
when  I  can.  We  have  received  no  mail  since 
we  landed,  it  all  going  to  the  units  of  which 
we  form  sections — ^but  there  is  prospect  of 
some  soon. 

I  hope  you  are  well,  and  that  you  will  have 
a  good  season  at  it  with  your  old  friend  Cervus, 
The  chief  inn  here  is  named  ''Au  Grand  Cerf/' 


TO  FRANCE  AND  FLANDERS     211 

and  there  is  a  cerf  grand  rampant  on  the  sign 
hanging  without.  He  doesn't  inliabit  these 
regions  any  more,  as  he  did  in  the  days  of 
the  Belgge.  The  modern  Belgse,  also,  run 
more  to  farming  than  their  bellicose  ancestors 
did. 

Through  profuse  conversation  with  the 
shop-keepers  and  Flemish  denizens  here  I've 
much  improved  and  fluentised  my  French. 
The  watchword  of  the  Tommy  is  "Compree? 
Alleymands  no  hon!"  This  magic  abracadab- 
ra apparently  suffices,  in  his  mind,  to  open 
the  gates  of  the  Voltaireian  and  Moliereian 
muse. 

[Yours  sincerely, 

Arthur  A.  Stanley. 

Somewhere-Else-in-France 
October  28,  1917 

Dear  Gyles: 

We  are  shortly  to  go  up  to  the  Line.  There 
is  work  to  be  done  there,  and  our  predecessors 
in  the  R.A.  ("Ubique")  corps  are  heard  in- 
cessantly banging  away  up  there.  And  al- 
though Flanders  mud  may  not  be  excessively 
pleasant,  it  is  all  part  of  the  game. 

This  little  place  is  an  interesting  spot,  and 
one  can  see  nearly  everything  of  the  British 
Army  here.    Your  corps  is  well  represented. 


812  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

and  every  half -hour  sees  a  battery  going  up  or 
down — tin-hatted,  muddied,  and  spurred. 
They  are  also  of  the  Ubique  corps — for  they 
are  "everywhere"  with  a  vengeance. 

I  saw  two  self-conscious  "U.S.R.'s"  pass 
recently.  They're  learning  the  game,  I  sup- 
pose (mark  my  superior  air). 

But  all  sorts  of  luck  to  you,  and  I'll  write 
whenever  chance  offers.  You  and  I  always 
hit  it  off  rather  well,  mon  vieux,  and  if  my 
turn  should  come  sometime  now,  I  wish  you 
good-bye,  and  good  luck  again — and  carry  on ! 
Your  army  may  be  the  finish  of  this  filthy  old 
show,  the  War — which  we  hope  will  end  before 
very  long. 

Hope  you'll  get  over  and  into  it  by  the 
spring. 

Yours, 

Arthur  A.  S. 

The  following  letter,  in  many  ways  the  most 
remarkable  Wainwright  sent,  he  apparently 
did  not  mail  at  once — possibly  did  not  mail  at 
all.  Although  his  letter  to  Edward  Hubbard 
dated  November  2  was  stamped  at  the  Army 
post-office  on  November  4,  this  bears  the  stamp 
of  November  6. 


TO  FRANCE  AND  FLANDERS     213 

Somewhere-Else-in-France 
October  28,  1917 

t^EAR  Edward: 

I  do  not  know  where  this  will  reach  you — 
but  it's  only  to  say  that  we're  here,  ten  miles 
from  the  Line,  in  a  little  to^^n  in  the  Flanders 
mud,  that  is  continually  busy  with  the  traffic 
of  war  back  and  forth  from  the  Line — where 
we  are  going  very  shortly. 

It's  a  bald  sort  of  fact — just  going  up  into 
this  sector  of  particularly  infernal  hell;  but 
il  faut  qiion  rit,  si  Von  le  pent;  though  it's 
mighty  hard,  Ed — leaving  everything  back 
there,  perhaps  for  good  and  all.  So  if  it  should 
be  that,  friend,  I'll  say  good-bye — but  God! 
how  can  one — a  couple  of  simple  words  and  it's 
over,  and  you  go  up  to  the  Line,  and  try  to 
laugh,  or  smile  at  least,  and  swallow  it  down. 
But  it's  part  of  the  game,  of  course,  and  it  is 
a  noble  end  which  we  seek  out  of  the  ruck 
and  jetsam  of  death  and  broken  men  and  last- 
ing sorrow.  .  .  .  Mais  tu  sais  hien  fa  que  je 
veux  dii'e,  et  ce  que  je  ne  peux  pas  ecriver — 
s'il  doit  etre  "adieu"  sois  fidele  aux  meilleures 
choses  de  ta  vie,  man  ami  et  mon  frere,  tou- 
jours! — et  tu  sais  que  je  faime  et  que  nous — 
que  moi,  je  n'ouhlierai  pas  p«  que  notre  cama- 
raderie a  ete — jamais.    Alors,  en  aucun  cas^ 


214  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

bonne  chance  et  au  revoir! — parceque  ncms 
Savons  qu'il  y  a  v/ne  Vie  apres  cette  vie-d — 
Good-bye,  Ed. 

Yours, 

Aethue. 


CHAPTER  XII 

AT  THE  FRONT 

"Pleasantly  Domiciled  in  a  Brick-walled  Passage" — A 
Battery  Position — On  the  Mud-covered  Highway — 
The  Ruins  of  Ypres — Work  of  the  Heavy  Guns — 
The  Wine-cellar — The  Infantry  on  the  Ypres 
Front — English  Democracy — A  Meeting  in  London 
with  Two  College  Men— "Till  Later" 

Elsewhere-in-France 
October  30,  1917 

DeaeC.  M.  S.: 

Well,  n'y  a  pas  heaucoup  a  dire — ^weVe  gone 
up  to  the  Line.  At  the  present  I  am  pleasant- 
ly domiciled  in  a  heavily-brick-walled  passage 
under  a  brick  roof  and  five  feet  of  stone,  steel, 
sandbags,  bricks,  and  earth.  Above  that  is  the 
air,  and  all  about  remnants  of  houses,  jagged 
tree-trunks ;  to  the  north  a  fine  grey  facade  of 
a  once  beautiful  ancient  edifice  known  the 
world  over,  beside  which  are  some  ruined 
arches  lolling  drunkenly  about  and  fallen  in, 
and  an  angle  still  standing.  Everywhere  about 
are  ruin  and  demolished  buildings  and  shell- 

215 


216  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

holes.  The  roads  are  none  too  even,  are  cob- 
bled, and  very  muddy.  It  is  dark  and  cloudy 
up  there,  but  well-lit  in  flashes  from  the  Guns, 
that  never  cease.  We  are  in  a  much-worn  and 
long-suffering  city  that  has  seen  three  battles, 
the  beginning  of  the  Huns'  gas-limbo,  and  our 
hammering  them  into  giving  back. 

We  came  up  from  the  depot  town  about  a 
week  ago,  went  into  billets,  and  since  have  been 
quite  busy.  The  lorries,  guns,  and  horse  trains 
go  by  continually  over  the  muddy  cobblestones, 
dirty  Tommies  plod  along  under  pack  and 
"tin-hat,"  shells  come  over,  whine,  and  drop, — 
and  the  War  goes  on. 

From  here  you  go  Up,  walking,  or  "hop- 
ping" a  lorry,  if  lucky,  to  the  nearest  point  to 
your  battery,  then  foot-slogging  it  again  to 
the  position.  There  you  are :  a  corduroy  road, 
perhaps,  six  green  and  brown  and  black  paint- 
ed things  along  it  on  more  corduroy;  hoop- 
iron  shrapnel  shelters  for  the  shells  et  alia,  a 
dugout  near  by  somewhere  for  cook-house  and 
other  purposes,  and  loose  planks,  all  lying  in 
a  wide  plain  of  green  and  mud  and  water-filled 
shell-holes.  Further  off  in  any  direction  you 
see  more  groups  like  your  own — ammunition 
stacked  in  "dumps,"  little  railway  lines  run- 
ning about,  a  road  in  the  distance,  marked  by 


CANADIAN    HEAVY   ARTILLERY    IN    ACTION 


AT  THE  FRONT  217 

crawling  square  things  that  are  lorries,  and 
defined  now  and  again  by  cone-upspurts  of 
mud  and  earth,  with  the  solid  crack  of  H.E. 

The  guns  about  you  are  banging  in  vary- 
ing keys  and  running  the  scale  from  fortissimo 
to  giac — o  gad!  never  giacoso,  but  at  times 
allegro.  There  is  nothing  giacoso  about  the 
guns.  Various  whines  assort  themselves  about 
you,  most  of  which  you  see  ignored,  but  at 
some,  when  they  shrill  up  clearly  enough,  the 
plastered  brown  figures  about  crouch  low: 
plunk! — it  is  a  dud.  Fritz's  ammunition  is 
filthy,  and  gives  a  large  percentage  of  duds. 
Little  blue  bursts  tell  of  ill-judged  time-shrap- 
nel, with  too  long  fuse.  Those  two  greenish 
yellow  clouds,  close  to  the  ground,  have  just 
come  from  gas  shells. 

Overhead  the  'planes  are  always  hovering, 
dipping,  nose-diving,  side-slipping,  and  coast- 
ing, for  the  Guns  rely  on  their  aircraft  for  in- 
formation about  the  effect  of  firing.  When  he 
hovers  over  the  position,  his  wireless  is  sending 
down  his  observations,  directions,  and  news. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  ago  you  might  have 
seen  a  bit  of  a  hot  show  above.  Three  of  ours 
were  chasing  four  silvery  specks  which  were 
shown  by  the  Archie  shrapnel-bursts  below 
them.    You  heard  the  Lewis-gun  staccato  and 


218  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

in  pauses  of  the  firing  our  steady  buzz  and  the 
cursed  Hun  grinding  "er-er-er."  The  whole 
affair  moved  off  and  finished  itself  somewhere 
else.  Aye,  "cursed,"  for  here  one  knows  the 
Hun  air- ways  at  first  hand,  and  it  hurts  worse 
than  many  things  out  here  to  see,  as  we  do  oc- 
casionally, a  grey  floater  with  the  red,  white, 
and  blue  circles,  timible  over  and  over  down, 
or  plane  giddily  to  a  crash  that  you  turn  away 
your  head  not  to  see.  All  praise  to  the  R.F.C., 
for  doing  fine  service  under  the  worst  condi- 
tions; and  requiescant  their  great  boy  pilots, 
and  may  the  earth  lie  lightly  on  them.  And 
one  cannot  say  more  for  a  man  out  here  than 
that  last! 

Sed  Icetet — iuvat  xndere  locos — one  likes  to 
see  the  sites  of  former  doings.  And  there  is 
that  lighter  side  that  offers  relaxation.  For 
instance,  one  may  occasionally  go  back  to  [one 
letter  deleted].  You  walk  along  the  mud- 
covered  highway — the  White  Road  that  leads 
and  led  to  this  battered  sector  of  the  Line.  A 
chugging  and  bumping  follows  you  partout, 
the  gi'een  lorries  with  their  quaint  divisional 
signs  go  by.  Lions  rampant,  bar  sinister  dom- 
inoes of  divers  spots,  red  dumbbells,  black  tom- 
cats reclining  sejant  against  one  another,  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing.    Probably  a  staff  of  fif- 


AT  THE  FRONT  219 

teen  officers,  installed  in  thirty  rooms,  is  em- 
ployed to  devise  these  signs  of  mystic  mean- 
ing. 

But,  ods-bodikins !  a  'bus  is  surging  down  the 
line,  and  another  and  another.  You  remem- 
ber in  time  to  run  to  the  middle  of  the  road, 
for  you  are  on  the  Continent  and  keep  to  the 
right,  and  hop  it — in  the  old  familiar  side 
swing  that  you  used  to  know  so  well — and  quite 
naturally  climb  the  winding  stair.  You 
reached  the  top  and  sat  down;  came  a  call, 
"Any  fares,  please !" — a  Tommy  opposite  had 
spoken  in  jest;  you  echo  unconsciously  with  a 
broken-off  laugh,  "A  penny  all  the  way!"  and 
bowling  along  the  straight  road  under  the  pop- 
lars, you  are  in  Blighty  again,  purring  down 
the  golden  Strand.  It  passes  and  leaves  you 
to  a  day-dream,  with  a  bit  of  a  sting  and  pain. 
God!  London  Town — once  again!  But  a 
spurt  and  throw  of  mud  near  the  road  sends  a 
bit  of  shrapnel  singing  over,  and  brown-studies 
finish. 

**Ubique  means  'Bank,  'Olbom,  Bank — 
a  penny  all  the  way.'  " 

Good  luck  to  you  and  Hanover.  Mail  is 
at  last  coming  in,  and,  crois-moK  I  am  looking 


220  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

for  the  old  post-mark.    I  will  send  on  when  I 
can.    I  feel  that  I  write  abominably  now. 
Yours, 

Arthur  A.  S. 

Elsewhere-in-France 
November  2,  1917 

Deae  Mr.  Merrill: 

We  have  been  here  in  billets  for  several 
days.  When  we  are  off  duty  we  stay  here, 
safely  underground,  and  sleep,  read,  or  follow 
our  "ain"  plans.  We  do  turns  at  the  guns, 
several  kilometres  from  here,  for  twenty-four 
hours,  and  return  here  for  forty-eight.  Of 
course,  it's  pretty  hard  work,  and  one  needs 
the  rest. 

This  town  is  quite  a  ruin,  though  there  are 
some  houses  still  standing.  Most  of  the  walls 
have  part  dehout,  but  present  a  sorry  sight  on 
the  whole.  The  streets  are  still  going,  cob- 
bled, and  very  muddy,  being  mainly  used  by 
the  soldiers,  who  have  to  meet  a  lot  of  mud. 
In  the  middle  of  the  town,  or  not  faf  from  it, 
are  the  remains  of  what  once  was  one  of  the 
finest  buildings  in  the  Low  Countries — the  old 
Holies  de  Draps.  The  destruction  of  that  is 
an  example  of  the  rotten  business  of  this  war. 

Our  work  up  at  the  Line  is  prett^'^  heavy 


CLOTH     HALL,     YPRES,     AFTER    BOMBARDMENT 

The  Ruins  of  the  Ancient  Cathedral  are  seen   in   the  background,  at  the  right 


y^ 

T 


AT  THE  FRONT  221 

in  certain  ways.  There  is  a  deal  of  pulling 
and  shifting  guns,  and  toting  shells  about. 
Firing  the  big  guns  is  done  by  "shoots,"  as 
they  are  called — quite  like  our  old  work  at  the 
traps  and  Walnut  Hill.  One  receives  the  or- 
der to  lob  over  a  certain  number  of  rounds  at 
named  targets.  It  is  all  indirect  laying  (viz: 
aiming  at  unseen  targets ) ,  of  course,  and  cor- 
rections in  aiming  are  sent  down  by  our  'plane 
(each  battery  has  one  of  its  own)  by  wireless, 
as  observed  from  their  undulations  in  the  firm- 
ament. If  our  'plane  notes  a  near-hit,  the  ob- 
server makes  his  estimate  of  the  error  in  aim- 
ing, and  sends  it  down ;  then  when  a  direct  hit 
is  observed,  the  'plane  passes  us  word  to  turn 
loose  pronto,  and  Fritz  forthwith  is  in  diffi- 
culties. It's  really  extraordinary  what  the 
'planes  can  do.  They  are  the  very  right  arm, 
or,  to  use  a  better  figure,  the  eyes  of  the  TJhi- 
que  ( irps.  The  side  which  possesses  the  best 
air-service  will  hold  preponderance  of  power 
with  the  guns. 

Rerlly,  out  here  there  is  very  much  of  a 
sameness — and  how  one  becomes  lazy!  Back 
in  the  Old  Country,  in  those  happy  days  be- 
fore the  white  cliffs  sank  into  Channel  grey, 
one  went  about  and  did  things,  and  saw  things 
— here,  rien  a  voir,  rien  a  faire.     Never  was 


222  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAEI 

truer  word  said  nor  patter  saw  propounded 
than  that  "variety  is  the  spice  of  life."  Here 
it's  a  matter  of  "to-morrow,  and  to-morrow, 
and  to-morrow." 

But  the  giddy  old  show  will  finish — ere  long, 
we  will  hope.  And  the  Front  is  not  so  black 
as  it  is  painted — though  it  is  quite  as  hrown, 
with  khaki  and  no  end  of  Flanders  mud.  Some 
day  someone  will  immortalise  and  perpetuate 
the  memory  of  "Mud:  as  seen  in  Western 
Europe,  1914-19  .  .  ." 

To  relieve  the  monotony  I  have  books:  the 
Bard  of  Avon,  Kipling's  verse,  Tennyson, 
Longfellow,  "Pickwick"  (6  comme  ineffable!) , 
Dan  Scrivener's  "Canterbury  Tales,"  Pal- 
grave's  "Golden  Treasury."  But  what  one 
misses  are  the  dear  Victorian  novelists.  I  shall 
arrange  with  some  one  of  the  book-folk  that 
line — 

".  .  .  the  Road  that  wanders  down 
To  Charing  Cross  in  London  Town" 

to  send  me  periodically  a  list  of  books,  in  the 
cheap  editions.  I  want  "Chuzzlewit,"  and 
"Dombey,"  "Nickleby,"  Thackeray's  "Virgin- 
ians" and  "Newcomes,"  and  the  like.  I  hope 
I  can  effect  this,  but  I  don't  know. 


AT  THE  FRONT  223 

You  will  probably  have  returned  from  your 
moose-hunting  peregrinations  when  you  re- 
ceive this.  I  envy  you  your  menu.  Ours  is 
only  too  replete  with  hardtack  and  bully-beef, 
which  is  commonly  issued,  "one  man,  one  tin, 
one  day." 

I  have  received  (to-day)  your  letter  of  Oc- 
tober 2,  with  the  "B.E.F."  stamp  on  it.  Mail 
to  France  takes  longer  to  go  through,  I  sup- 
pose. That  is  only  the  second  letter  I  have 
received  in  two  weeks'  time  overseas.  Write 
when  you  can.  Best  wishes  to  all. 
Yours  sincerely, 

Arthur. 

Elsewhere-in-France 
November  2,  1917 

Dear  Edward: 

The  thought  of  it  all — ^that  you  are  back  at 
the  dear  old  place!  You  certainly  are  fortu- 
nate, old  boy;  but  such  is  ordained  for  some 
mortals  by  Jove  and  the  deathless  gods  that 
hold  high  Olympus.  I  will  tell  you  of  a  true 
thing,  man:  you  cannot  know  what  it  means 
to  one,  after  a  year  at  this  Hun-beating  busi- 
ness— what  that  name  means;  what  a  shrine 
it  makes  in  a  man's  heart,  of  hopes  and  past 
joys  and  plans  and  desires — that  which  we  call 


224  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

Alma  Mater.  And — il  n'est  pas  a  rire — it 
takes  the  place  of  le  premier  amour ^  of  many 
a  want  and  many  a  lack;  and  the  knowledge 
that  old  Johnny  H.  is  behind  his  sons  and 
watching  them  and  expecting  them  to  do  well, 
will  help  a  chap  mightily  to  carry  on. 

Oh,  to  toddle  in  at  the  gate  by  Holworthy  as 
the  bell  is  whanging  away,  and  the  men  pour 
out  of  Sever  and  Boylston  and  Widener;  to 
sit  again  to  old  Kittredge,  or  Barrett  Wendell 
(but  he  has  gone,  worse  luck!),  or  any  of  the 
honoured  Old  Guard;  to  speed  over  to  the 
Waldorf  or  the  Onion  for  a  bite  or  a  juicy  ten- 
derloin ;  in  short,  the  has-been  of  our  mundane 
sojourn,  the  glad  days  of  young  youth,  that 
now  seem  so  very  far  away.  But  the  hope  is 
still  warm  of  the  coming  back! 

I  won't  bore  you  with  portraj^^als  of  the  life 
we  lead  here,  for  a  thinking  man  thinks  of  it 
as  little  as  he  can,  and  waits  till  that  later  day 
when  the  Boche  shall  be  hived  again  in  his 
Bocliie,  and  decent  folk  may  go  abroad  without 
let  or  hindrance.  Here  the  ensemble  is  a  sort 
of  quintessence  of — mud,  piles  of  bricks,  jag- 
ged earth,  mud,  banging  motor-lorries,  boom- 
ing, and  MUD.  .  .  . 

If  I  were  in  your  shoes  I  would  jettison 
Chem.  entirely — ^but  you  have  the  liking  to 


AT  THE  FRONT  225 

some  extent.  "Phil."  is  excellent,  but  Pope  is 
apt  here:  "Drink  deep,  or  touch  not  — ." 
Every  Anglo-Saxon  should  know  the  story 
of  his  race,  so  any  Eng.  Hist,  course  is  the 
goods.  Who  gives  it?  And  have  you  dropped 
Mod.  Langs,  entirely?  It  is  to  be  hoped  not. 
I've  been  able  to  develop  conversational 
French  a  bit,  of  course,  here.  All  the  Flem- 
ish in  this  region  speak  it  as  a  second  home- 
tongue,  and  do  well  enough  with  English,  too. 
I've  not  forgotten  the  lingua  sacra,  either.  I 
have  the  "^neid"  in  my  bag,  among  other 
stand-bys.  I  found  Hugo's  "Odes  et  Bal- 
lades'' in  a  bazar  at  . . .  . ,  when  we  were  there. 
It  is  wonderful — only  less  so  (and  in  a  differ- 
ent way),  than  "L,es  Miser dbles''  Voila  le 
coeur  et  sort  de  toute  Vhumanite! 

[This  letter  ends  abruptly;  it  is  unsigned.] 

Somewhere-in-France 
November  If.,  1917 

Dear  Winifred: 

I  beg  that  you  will  forgive  me  both  my 
execrable  pencil  and  worse  paper,  the  which, 
savin'  your  reverence,  is  all  that  I  can  procure 
at  this  date.    C'est  la  guerre! 

Did  you  ever  correspond  with  a  cave-man? 
Then  (I  can  hear  your 'negative)  you  are  at 


226  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

least  hearing  from  one  now.  In  this  part  of 
the  Httle  world  the  mode  of  existence  of  our 
antediluvian  ancestors  is  highly  desirable.  Up 
above  there  are  wicked  shells  and  dastardly 
bombs,  that  make  it  a  bit  unpleasant  for  roam- 
ing about;  but  here,  in  my  secure  wine-cellar, 
which  once  held  some  worthy  burgher's  claret 
and  Moselle  and  Benedictine,  with  feet  of 
bricks  and  that  sort  of  thing  over  one's  head, 
'tis  diiFerent.  There  is  a  great  old  straf  on 
above  there  now,  but  "it  shall  not  come  nigh 
thee."  And,  incidentally,  we  are  doin'  a 
'straordin'rily  large  part  of  the  strafing.  And 
come  now — ^before  we  leave  the  subject — what 
am  I  offered,  a  conmiodious  heated  apartment, 
with  shelves,  spring  bed  a  la  Louis  XV,  and 
certain  books  to  while  away  the  time? 

To  delve  into  that  limbo  of  the  dear  dead 
has-been,  I  mind  me  of  a  bit  of  a  jingle  which 
was  known  when  I  entered  into  classic  halls : 

"When  Freshmen  first  we  came  to  Yale — 
Fol  de  rol,  de  rol  rol  rol !" 

and  to  me  there  comes  the  possible  emenda- 
tion, along  more  topical  lines: 

When  first  we  came  to  straf  the  Hun — 
Fol  de  rol,  etc., 


AT  THE  FRONT  227 

A  "pip-squeak"  set  us  on  the  run — 
Fol  de  rol,  de  plunk-whiz-boom! 

Not  SO  bally  rotten,  what?  I'll  be  rivalin' 
these  Kiplin',  an'  Service,  an'  Brooke  chap- 
pies, before  vewy  long.  Jolly  old  toppah,  this 
Kiplin',  weally! 

But  to  mix  jollity  with  other  matters  is  all 
one  can  do  out  here.  There's  so  hanged  little 
joy  or  laughter  floatin'  about  that  you  have 
to  jolly  well  create  it,  or  languish  in 
gloom.  .  .  . 

Best  wishes,  my  friend, 

Yours, 

Arthur. 

Somervhere-in-France 
November  5,  1917 

Dear  C.  M.  S.: 

De  quoi  ecrire  id  au  Front — mcds  om^ 
qu'importe? 

A  few  casualties,  day  by  day:  no  R.I.P.'s, 
but  nearly  all  Blightys;  some  gas  stretcher 
cases,  and  a  couple  of  dressing  station  scratches 
— that  is  a  week's  toll  on  this  forsaken  sector. 

The  poor  infantry.  To  live  in  wretched  shell- 
holes,  under  shrapnel,  H.E.,  and  gas  for  days 
and  weeks — for  this  push  is  a  tough  one,  the 
worst  of  the  war.    But  there  is  victory  in  sight 


228  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

if  one  endure.  Back  here  the  sifted  platoons 
stop  by  the  roadside,  and,  sprawled  about  on 
the  brick  piles,  they  get  out  their  gun- wipers 
and  massage  the  rusty  Enfields. —  (For  wip- 
ers read  hell-on-earth.*)  And  they  talk  of 
the  front-of-the-Front,  and  of  the  ills  and  joys 
of  that  land:  the  Boche  always  giving  way, 
our  shells  going  over  six  to  their  one — and, 
though  decidedly  fed-up,  they  carry  on!  Of 
course,  it  is  the  Army  tradition  always  to  be 
fed  up!  You  can  never  rob  the  Britisher  of 
his  grouse.  The  Men  that  Fought  at  Minden 
also  had  that  sacred  privilege.  "Blowed  if  I 
know  wot  the  bloody  war  is  gettin'  to,"  he  says. 
Your  Imperial  soldier  of  to-day  is  becoming 
a  very  independent  chap.    There  is  a  general 

*  "Wipers"  is  the  British  Tommy's  pronunciation  of  Ypres. 
TTie  comment,  "For  wipers  read  hell-on-earth,"  was  evidently 
intended  as  a  hint,  which  might  pass  the  censor,  that  the  let- 
ter was  written  from  the  ruined  city,  a  fact  which  the  writer 
was  not  at  liberty  to  state  more  plainly. 

At  this  time  Ypres  was  under  especially  savage  fire.  The 
activity  of  the  British  guns  had  told  the  Germans  that  an  in- 
fantry attack  was  impending,  and  the  bombardment  of  the 
city  was  intended  to  prevent  the  movement  of  reinforcements 
and  supplies  to  the  British  front.  The  famous  assault  of  the 
Canadians  that  resulted  in  the  capture  of  Passchendaele  Ridge, 
the  key  position  seven  miles  northeast  of  Ypres,  was  launched 
at  6  a.  m.  on  November  6. 

Field  Marshal  Haig's  night  report  of  November  7  reads: 
"During  the  day  the  work  of  organizing  our  new  positions 
at  Passchendaele  and  on  the  high  ground  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  the  village  continued  without  interruption  from  the 
enemy.  In  spite  of  the  great  importance  which  it  is  known 
the  enemy  attached  to  this  commanding  locality,  no  hostile 
reaction  has  yet  followed  its  capture." 


AT  THE  FRONT  229 

excrescence  on  their  ideas,  which  finds  origin 
in  John  Bull  and  Bottomley's  bombast,  that 
they  are  an  oppressed  lot,  rather  "wage-slaves" 
(which  most  of  the  sons  of  Adam  are — irony 
there  for  you),  the  prey  of  the  gentry,  they 
orfcer  blokes,  the  squire,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing.     It  is  exactly  as  the  omniscient  has  it. 

'^Me  that  'ave  been  what  I've  been, 
Me  that  'ave  gone  where  I've  gone, 
Me  that  'ave  seen  what  I've  seen — 

'Ow  can  I  ever  take  on 
With  awful  old  England  again. 
An'  'ouses  both  sides  of  the  street, 
An'  'edges  two  sides  of  the  lane. 
An'  the  parson  an'  'gentry'  between. 
An'  touchin'  my  'at  when  we  meet — ■ 
Me  that  'ave  been  what  I've  been !" 

But  ah,  habit,  habit!  When  the  humblest  one- 
pip  subaltern  of  'Is  Majesty's  Forces  passes 
by,  Thomas  A.  executes  "right-'and-in-a-cir- 
cular  motion  to-yer-'at,  'ead-'n-eyes-ngf/i^'^  for 
three  paces  before  and  after.  And,  of  course, 
"sir,  sii*,  sir." 

Is  "democracy"  coming  to  Albion?  Are 
duke's  son  and  cook's  son  in  reversed  places 
going  to  shake  it  up  in  the  millennium?  I  said 
democracy:  demos,  where  deTaos=canaille,  is 
rather  well  represented  everywhere.  But  Eng- 


230  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

land  is  the  most  completely  democratic  state — 
barring  land  conditions;  surely  nowhere  can 
one  find  greater  personal  freedom  than  under 
the  British  Crown.  And  "they"  will  call  the 
States  "democratic" — where  pacifists  are 
caged,  where  "Spitting  Forbidden,  Fine  $100" 
stares  at  you  in  every  vehicle  and  street,  while 
England's  way  tells  you:  "It  is  respectfully 
requested — "  And  for  a  ne  plus  ultra  exam- 
ple, one  need  only  take  the  Manliattan  night- 
court  vs.  the  primal  brutalities,  and  laissez 
vivre  of  a  London  magistrate's  bench,  in  deal- 
ing with  "Lalun." 

Did  I  ever  tell  you  how  I  met  Eugene 
Parker  Chase,  '16,  and  Fred  Leighton,  '17, 
when  I  was  in  London?  It  all  began  at  the 
American  Y.  M.  C.  A.  in  the  Aldwych.  I 
had  talked  for  an  hour  or  two  of  the  War  and 
sundry  with  a  worker  from  Johns  Hopkins, 
and  at  the  end  he  mentioned  a  co-worker — 
"from  Dartmouth,  by  the  way."  Explana- 
tions in  order — it  developed  who  he  was,  and 
of  Leighton  as  well.  I  was  floored  for  a  bit — 
to  think  of  meeting  them  there ! — and  the  next 
morning  I  walked  up  the  steps  of  No.  47, 
Russell  Square,  near  where  Amelia  and  old 
Sedley  used  to  live,  and  presently  saw  Eugene 
in  the  flesh.    At  Oxford  I  had  sought  for  a 


AT  THE  FRONT  231 

Rhodes  list  of  all  the  Colleges,  not  knowing 
to  which  he  had  gone,  and  had  failed  to  find 
any.  But  here  he  was,  and  Leighton,  with 
whom  I  pursued  Les sing's  Jew-toleration 
propaganda  in  the  northern  end  of  old  Dart- 
mouth, and  jaw-fested  with,  in  Norton's  room 
in  Middle  Fayerweather.  Hardly  a  change 
could  I  discern  in  either.  Eugene's  accent  had 
mellowed  a  little — he'd  learnt  dictionry  and 
ey ether ^  of  course — but  Leighton  was  semper 
idem. 

After  a  chat  they  returned  to  work.  At  one 
o'clock  I  returned,  we  three  proceeding  past 
the  war-closed  IMuseum  to  a  nice  Italian  place 
in  Soho,  where  I  had  the  first  good  luncheon 
in  weeks.  It  was  a  real  hour  of  enjoyment  for 
me ;  hearing  of  men  long  forgotten,  of  new  ac- 
quaintances, of  the  new  Dartmouth  war-work, 
of  everything  which  three  quondam  Hanover 
men,  rendezvous'ed  in  mighty  London,  found 
interesting;  that  Bailey  Emery  was  in  some 
naval  show  or  other,  that  the  shining  luminary 
Roswell  Magill,  '16,  was  doing  something  else, 
that  X  had  sought  fame  in  the  U.  S.  R.  at 
Plattsburg,  that  so  many  had  gone  as  "Jack- 
ies"  in  the  stalwart  flag-waving  U.  S.  N. ;  and 
Leighton  told  us,  last  year  having  been  out  of 
Hanover,  of  what  had  been  done  while  Eugene 


232  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

scholared  it  at  Magdalen  'mong  buttery  bills 
and  dons,  and  I  carried  on  in  the  Yard  and 
Union,  and  later,  to  be  sure,  with  the  British 
forces.  Leighton  had  left  in  May;  L.  H.  and 
other  wicked  Teutons,  being  conscientious,  had 
then  not  left  college.  'Gene  saw  his  year  out 
at  the  Coll.,  and  after  long  vacation  had  de- 
cided not  to  return  for  Fall  Term  (which  went 
up  at  the  very  time  we  met) . 

And  then  of  the  work  in  choosing  books  for 
"Sammies"  shortly  due — what  class  of  litera- 
ture was  most  widely  read  among  the  Can- 
adians? I  told  them  of  the  pearls  of  English 
prose  done  by  Ruby  M.  Ayres,  Victoria  Cross, 
Guy  Boothby  and  William  Le  Queux,  which 
Thomas  largely  favoured.  So  from  their  work 
in  Blighty  we  left  to  other  topics — and  lunch 
hour  was  soon  past.  They  returned  to  Rus- 
sell Square  and  I  into  the  City,  but  I  with 
pleasant  afterthoughts.  I  say,  Dartmouth 
does  put  a  sort  of  brand  upon  a  man,  does  it 
not?  I  watched  it  in  Fred's  and  Eugene's 
methods  of  thought.  'Gene  was  losing  it  a  bit 
through  Magdalen;  I,  perhaps,  had  lost  it  more 
than  either — yet  I  knew  instinctively  that  we, 
save  for  the  dubious  form  (in  a  Soho  "risto- 
ranie"!)  could  without  a  word  have  stood  up, 


AT  THE  FRONT  2S3 

joined  hands,  and  sung  the  old  Song  without 
breaking  and  in  gladness: 

"And  the  granite  of  New  Hampshire . 
In  their  muscles  and  their  brains." — 

Dartmouth  upperclassman,  Harvard  under- 
graduate, and  Magdalen  scholar — three  as  di- 
verse as  East  and  West,  yet  as  united  as  man 
and  maid.  There  you  have  a  wonderful  thing, 
my  friend.    And  I  think  all  three  felt  it,  also. 

I  knocked  against  a  U.  S.  R.  medico  in  this 
city  of  sorrows  not  long  ago,  and,  asking  of 
his  corps,  was  told  that  the  universities  were  to 
send  their  quotas  from  the  medical  schools  as 
units,  before  very  long.  I  judged  him  a  Mid- 
dle-Westerner, from  his  dialect. 

You  will  excuse  me  while  I  damn  both  pen 
and  paper,  with  which  I  write  this,  most  heart- 
ily— ^but  I  fancy  that  Ung  had  worse  imple- 
ments, and  I  now  class  as  a  sort  of  modernistic 
cave-man. 

Till  later — thanking  you  for  bearing  with 
me  so  far, 

Yours, 

Arthuh  a.  S. 

At  two  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  Novem- 
ber 6,  the  building  in  Ypres  where  Wainwright 


234  A  COLLEGE  MAN  IN  KHAKI 

Merrill  was  billeted  was  struck  and  wrecked 
by  an  enemy  shell.  He  was  at  once  taken  from 
the  ruins  and  carried  to  a  dressing  station,  but 
he  died  without  regaining  consciousness.  He 
was  buried  in  a  small  British  cemetery  in  the 
outskirts  of  Ypres. 

An  officer  of  Wainwright's  battery,  writing 
from  the  front  to  Mr.  Merrill,  said:  "While 
here  he  always  did  his  work  well,  and  was  never 
found  wanting.  We  all  considered  him  rather 
a  strange  chap,  which  is  quite  explained  by 
your  letter  telling  about  his  assumed  name. 
He  certainly  had  the  nerve  and  pluck  to  carry 
it  through.  When  off  duty  he  always  could  be 
found  reading,  not  trashy  novels,  but  books 
that  only  an  educated  man  could  read  and 
understand,  so  he  was  always  looked  upon  as 
not  being  of  the  ordinary  type  of  soldier,  but 
something  above  it." 


7 


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